Do You Know What I Think Mayflowers

I Wonder Why People So Commonly Suppose That If Two Individuals Are Both Writers They Must Therefore Be Hugely Congenial.

It's Dreadful What Little Things Lead People To Misunderstand Each Other.

The Night Was Clear And Frosty, All Ebony Of Shadow And Silver Of Snowy Slope; Big Stars Were Shining Over The Silent Fields; Here And There The Dark Pointed Firs Stood Up With Snow Powdering Their Branches And The Wind Whistling Through Them.

Desire Grows By What It Feeds On.

I Am Sure We Should Not Shut Our Hearts Against The Healing Influences That Nature Offers Us. But I Understand Your Feeling. I Think We All Experience The Same Thing. We Resent The Thought That Anything Can Please Us When Someone We Love Is No Longer Here To Share The Pleasure With Us, And We Almost Feel As If We Were Unfaithful To Our Sorrow When We Find Our Interest In Life Returning To Us.