Sisterly Love Is, Of All Sentiments, The

Killing Time Is The Chief End Of Our Society.

We Cannot Bear To Regard Ourselves Simply As Playthings Of Blind Chance, We Cannot Admit To Feeling Ourselves Abandoned.

Every Tiny Part Of Us Cries Out Against The Idea Of Dying, And Hopes To Live Forever.

Thought Itself Needs Words. It Runs On Them Like A Long Wire. And If It Loses The Habit Of Words, Little By Little It Becomes Shapeless, Somber.

The Spontaneity Of Slaps Is Sincerity, Whereas The Ceremonial Of Caresses Is Largely Convention.