For Beatrice, Our Love Broke My Heart,

The Burning Of A Book Is A Sad, Sad Sight, For Even Though A Book Is Nothing But Ink And Paper, It Feels As If The Ideas Contained In The Book Are Disappearing As The Pages Turn To Ashes And The Cover And Binding--which Is The Term For The Stitching And Glue That Holds The Pages Together--blacken And Curl As The Flames Do Their Wicked Work. When Someone Is Burning A Book, They Are Showing Utter Contempt For All Of The Thinking That Produced Its Ideas, All Of The Labor That Went Into Its Words And Sentences, And All Of The Trouble That Befell The Author . . .

Taking One’s Chances Is Like Taking A Bath, Because Sometimes You End Up Feeling Comfortable And Warm, And Sometimes There Is Something Terrible Lurking Around That You Cannot See Until It Is Too Late And You Can Do Nothing Else But Scream And Cling To A Plastic Duck.

The Whole Thing Of What I’ve Been Trying,” You Said, “is That You’re Different, And You Keep Asking About The Other Girls, But What I Mean Is That I Don’t Think About Them, Because Of The Way You Are.

The Table Of Elements Does Not Contain One Of The Most Powerful Elements That Make Up Our World, And That Is The Element Of Surprise.

Whenever You Are Examining Someone Else's Belongings, You Are Bound To Learn Many Interesting Things About The Person Of Which You Were Not Previously Aware.