Anybody Who Has Had Experience Of Poetesses

I Was Afraid And Did Not Know What I Feared, Which Is The Worst Kind Of Fear.

I Saw Corpses, And Grew Used To Their Unimportant Look, For A Dead Man Without Any Of The Panoply Of Death Is A Desperately Insignificant Object.

I Still Have Trouble Identifying Grammatical Structures By Name, Though I Know Them As Matters Of Usage.

The Pleasures Of Love Are For Those Who Are Hopelessly Addicted To Another Living Creature. The Reasons For Such Addiction Are So Many That I Suspect They Are Never The Same In Any Two Cases. It Includes Passion But Does Not Survive By Passion; It Has Its Whiffs Of The Agreeable Vertigo Of Young Love, But It Is Stable More Often Than Dizzy; It Is A Growing, Changing Thing, And It Is Tactful Enough To Give The Addicted Parties Occasional Rests From Strong And Exhausting Feeling Of Any Kind.

What We Call Luck Is The Inner Man Externalized. We Make Things Happen To Us.