I Must Be Getting Old ... People

I Wonder Why People So Commonly Suppose That If Two Individuals Are Both Writers They Must Therefore Be Hugely Congenial.

Anyhow, There'll Be Plenty Of Jam In Heaven, That's One Comfort, He Said Complacently. Perhaps There Will...if We Want It, She Said, But What Makes You Think So? Why, It's In The Catechism, Said Davy. Oh, No, There Is Nothing Like That In The Catechism, Davy. But I Tell You There Is, Persisted Davy. It Was In That Question Marilla Taught Me Last Sunday. Why Should We Love God? It Says, Because He Makes Preserves, And Redeems Us. Preserves Is Just A Holy Way Of Saying Jam.

Trees, Unlike So Many Humans, Always Improve On Acquaintance. No Matter How Much You Like Them At The Start You Are Sure To Like Them Much Better Further On, And Best Of All When You Have Known Them For Years And Enjoyed Intercourse With Them In All Seasons.

But I Believe I Rather Like Superstitious People. They Lend Color To Life. Wouldn't It Be A Rather Drab World If Everybody Was Wise And Sensible . . . And Good? What Would We Find To Talk About?

Oh, Of Course There's A Risk In Marrying Anybody, But, When It's All Said And Done, There's Many A Worse Thing Than A Husband.