A Book May Be Compared To Your

Store Up Reservoirs Of Calm And Content And Draw On Them At Later Moments When The Source Isn't There, But The Need Is Very Great.

Youth Is Stranger Than Fiction.

I Thought When Love For You Died, I Should Die. It's Dead. Alone, Most Strangely, I Live On.

If I Should Die, Think Only This Of Me: That There's Some Corner Of A Foreign Field That Is Forever England. There Shall Be In That Rich Earth A Richer Dust Concealed; A Dust Whom England Bore, Shaped, Made Aware, Gave, Once, Her Flowers To Love, Her Ways To Roam, A Body Of England's, Breathing English Air, Washed By The Rivers, Blest By Suns Of Home.

All The Little Emptiness Of Love!