But The More Poetry One Reads The

Isn't Life,' She Stammered, 'isn't Life--' But What Life Was She Couldn't Explain. No Matter. He Quite Understood. 'isn't It, Darling?' Said Laurie.

Why! Why! Why Is The Middle-class So Stodgy - So Utterly Without A Sense Of Humor?

But The More Poetry One Reads The More One Longs To Read!

I Don't Believe Other People Are Ever As Foolishly Excited As I Am While I'm Working. How Could They Be? Writers Would Have To Live In Trees.

If Only One Could Tell True Love From False Love As One Can Tell Mushrooms From Toadstools.