Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder… Or

Our Life Is A Book To Which We Add Daily, Until Suddenly We Are Finished, And Then The Manuscript Is Burned.

Next Year He Did Not Come For Her. She Waited In A New Frock Because The Old One Simply Would Not Meet, But He Never Came. "perhaps He Is Ill," Michael Said. "you Know He Is Never Ill." Michael Came Close To Her And Whispered, With A Shiver, "perhaps There Is No Such Person, Wendy!" And Then Wendy Would Have Cried If Michael Had Not Been Crying.

A Loving Wife Is Better Than Making 50 In Cricket, Or Even 99, Beyond That I Will Not Go.

Nobody Really Wants Us. So Let Us Watch And Say Jaggy Things, In The Hope That Some Of Them Will Hurt.

Just Always Be Waiting For Me.