You Generally Hear That What A Man

The More We Feel Sorry For Ourselves, The Less Sorry Others Will Feel For Us. People Don't Waste Their Small Store Of Sympathy On Those Who Can Provide It So Richly For Themselves.

In A Happy Marriage It Is The Wife Who Provides The Climate, The Husband The Landscape.

Everyone Alters And Is Altered By Everyone Else. We Are All The Time Taking In Portions Of One Another Or Else Reacting Against Them, And By These Involuntary Acquisitions And Repulsions Modifying Our Natures.

The Cliche Is Dead Poetry.

We Soon Cease To Feel The Grief At The Deaths Of Our Friends, Yet We Continue To The End Of Our Lives To Miss Them. They Are Still With Us In Their Absence.