A Novel Is An Impression, Not An

Happiness Is But A Mere Episode In The General Drama Of Pain.

Women Are Attracted To Silent Men. They Believe They Are Listening.

O, You Have Torn My Life All To Pieces... Made Me Be What I Prayed You In Pity Not To Make Me Be Again!

By Experience", Says Roger Ascham, "we Find Out A Short Way By A Long Wandering." Not Seldom That Long Wandering Unfits Us For Further Travel, And Of What Use Is Our Experience To Us Then?

...nameless, Unknown To Me As You Were, I Couldn't Forget Your Voice!' 'for How Long?' 'o - Ever So Long. Days And Days.' 'days And Days! Only Days And Days? O, The Heart Of A Man! Days And Days!' 'but, My Dear Madam, I Had Not Known You More Than A Day Or Two. It Was Not A Full-blown Love - It Was The Merest Bud - Red, Fresh, Vivid, But Small. It Was A Colossal Passion In Embryo. It Never Returned.