A Bad Workman Blames His Tools.

Why Did Dogs Make One Want To Cry? There Was Something So Quiet And Hopeless About Their Sympathy. Jasper, Knowing Something Was Wrong, As Dogs Always Do. Trunks Being Packed. Cars Being Brought To The Door. Dogs Standing With Drooping Tails, Dejected Eyes. Wandering Back To Their Baskets In The Hall When The Sound Of The Car Dies Away.

...the Routine Of Life Goes On, Whatever Happens, We Do The Same Things, Go Through The Little Performance Of Eating, Sleeping, Washing. No Crisis Can Break Through The Crust Of Habit.

Jem Was Safe From Her, And He Would Ride Away With A Song On His Lips And A Laugh At Her Expense, Forgetful Of Her, And Of His Brother, And Of God; While She Dragged Through The Years, Sullen And Bitter, The Stain Of Silence Marking Her, Coming In The End To Ridicule As A Soured Spinster Who Had Been Kissed Once In Her Life And Could Not Forget It.

When One Is Writing A Novel In The First Person, One Must Be That Person.

People Who Travel Are Always Fugitives.