I Hate This Place. I Shall Hate

The Real Essence Of Any Marriage That Has Struggled, However Unsuccessfully, Towards Happiness, Lies In The Growth Of A Wordless Understanding That What Is Acceptable To One Partner Will Be Acceptable To The Other.

I Hate This Place. I Shall Hate It To My Grave.

There Is A Peacefulness, An Air Of Reflection, About A Rocking-chair That Attaches To No Other Moving Object.

You Have No Idea How Hard It Is To Live Out A Great Romance.

I'm Not A Beautiful Woman. I'm Nothing To Look At, So The Only Thing I Can Do Is Dress Better Than Anyone Else.