...but I Should Say That Kindliness, And

I Felt Rather Exhausted, And Wondered, Rather Shocked At My Callous Thought, Why Old People Were Sometimes Such A Strain. Worse Than Young Children Or Puppies Because One Had To Be Polite.

Sometimes It’s A Sort Of Indulgence To Think The Worst Of Ourselves. We Say, ‘now I Have Reached The Bottom Of The Pit, Now I Can Fall No Further,’ And It Is Almost A Pleasure To Wallow In The Darkness. The Trouble Is, It’s Not True. There Is No End To The Evil In Ourselves, Just As There Is No End To The Good. It’s A Matter Of Choice. We Struggle To Climb, Or We Struggle To Fall. The Thing Is To Discover Which Way We’re Going.

I Have No Talent For Making New Friends, But Oh Such Genius For Fidelity To Old Ones.

Jem Was Safe From Her, And He Would Ride Away With A Song On His Lips And A Laugh At Her Expense, Forgetful Of Her, And Of His Brother, And Of God; While She Dragged Through The Years, Sullen And Bitter, The Stain Of Silence Marking Her, Coming In The End To Ridicule As A Soured Spinster Who Had Been Kissed Once In Her Life And Could Not Forget It.

When She Smiled It Was As Though She Embraced The World.