I Could Marry The Devil Himself If

The Key To All Knowledge Comes In Words Of Just One Syllable, Apparently.... There's Only The Last Page Left To Write On. I'll Fill It With Words Of Just One Syllable. I Love. I Have Loved. I Will Love.

It Came To Me That Hyde Park Has Never Belonged To London - That It Has Always Been , In Spirit, A Stretch Of Countryside; And That It Links The Londons Of All Periods Together Most Magically - By Remaining Forever Unchanged At The Heart Of A Ever-changing Town.

I Wonder If There Isn't A Catch About Having Plenty Of Money? Does It Eventually Take The Pleasure Out Of Things?

Wakings Are The Worst Times--almost Before My Eyes Are Open A Great Weight Seems To Roll On My Heart.

Why Is Summer Mist Romantic And Autumn Mist Just Sad?