A Bird With A Broken Wing Was

The Way To Become Rich Is To Make Money, Not To Save It.

Who Can Tell What Metals The Gods Use In Forging The Subtle Bond Which We Call Sympathy, Which We Might As Well Call Love.

She Looked Into The Distance, And The Old Terror Flamed Up For An Instant, Then Sank Again. Edna Heard Her Father's Voice And Her Sister Margaret's. She Heard The Barking Of An Old Dog That Was Chained To The Sycamore Tree. The Spurs Of The Cavalry Officer Clanged As He Walked Across The Porch. There Was The Hum Of Bees, And The Musky Odor Of Pinks Filled The Air. (last Lines)

I Would Give Up The Unessential; I Would Give Up My Money, I Would Give Up My Life For My Children; But I Wouldnt Give Myself. I Can't Make It More Clear; It's Only Something I Am Beginning To Comprehend, Which Is Revealing Itself To Me.

She Was Still Under The Spell Of Her Infatuation. She Had Tried To Forget Him, Realizing The Inutility Of Remembering. But The Thought Of Him Was Like An Obsession, Ever Pressing Itself Upon Her. It Was Not That She Dwelt Upon Details Of Their Acquaintance, Or Recalled In Any Special Or Peculiar Way His Personality; It Was His Being, His Existence, Which Dominated Her Thought, Fading Sometimes As If It Would Melt Into The Mist Of The Forgotten, Reviving Again With An Intensity Which Filled Her With An Incomprehensible Longing.