My Life Is A Perfect Graveyard Of

I Must Be Getting Old ... People Are Beginning To Tell Me I Look So Young. They Never Tell You That When You Are Young.

I Am Simply A 'book Drunkard.' Books Have The Same Irresistible Temptation For Me That Liquor Has For Its Devotee. I Cannot Withstand Them.

Nobody Whom This War Has Touched Will Ever Be Happy Again In Quite The Same Way. But It Will Be A Better Happiness, I Think, Little Sister - A Happiness We've Earned.

There Must Be A Limit To The Mistakes One Person Can Make, And When I Get To The End Of Them, Then I'll Be Through With Them. That's A Comforting Thought

Perhaps, After All, Romance Did Not Come Into One’s Life With Pomp And Blare, Like A Gay Knight Riding Down; Perhaps It Crept To One’s Side Like An Old Friend Through Quiet Ways; Perhaps It Revealed Itself In Seeming Prose, Until Some Sudden Shaft Of Illumination Flung Athwart Its Pages Betrayed The Rhythm And The Music, Perhaps . . . Perhaps . . . Love Unfolded Naturally Out Of A Beautiful Friendship, As A Golden-hearted Rose Slipping From Its Green Sheath.