Dogs Are Wise. They Crawl Away Into

I Looked At Her. Sheila Was My Girl--the Girl I Wanted--and Wanted For Keeps. But It Wasn't Any Use Having Illusions About Her. Sheila Was A Liar And Probably Always Would Be A Liar. It Was Her Way Of Fighting For Survival--the Quick Easy Glib Denial. It Was A Child's Weapon--and She'd Probably Never Got Out Of Using It. If I Wanted Sheila, I Must Accept Her As She Was--be At Hand To Prop Up The Weak Places. We've All Got Our Weak Places. Mine Were Different From Sheila's, But They Were There.

No Sign, So Far, Of Anything Sinister—but I Live In Hope.

It's So Much Nicer To Be A Secret And Delightful Sin To Anybody Than To Be A Feather In His Cap.

Best Of An Island Is Once You Get There - You Can't Go Any Farther...you've Come To The End Of Things.

Words, Mademoiselle, Are Only The Outer Clothing Of Ideas.