The Only Thing Worse Than Bad Health

Justice Limps Along, But Gets There All The Same.

Ultimately, Literature Is Nothing But Carpentry.

Over The Years They Both Reached The Same Wise Conclusion By Different Paths: It Was Not Possible To Live Together In Any Other Way, Or Love In Any Other Way, And Nothing In This World Was More Difficult Than Love.

Wherever They Might Be They Always Remember That The Past Was A Lie, That Memory Has No Return, That Every Spring Gone By Could Never Be Recovered, And That The Wildest And Most Tenacious Love Was An Ephemeral Truth In The End.

The World Was Reduced To The Surface Of Her Skin And Her Inner Self Was Safe From All Bitterness.