Nothing Fails Like Failure

I Actually Remember Feeling Delight, At Two O'clock In The Morning, When The Baby Woke For His Feed, Because I So Longed To Have Another Look At Him.

Lord Knows What Incommunicable Small Terrors Infants Go Through, Unknown To All. We Disregard Them, We Say They Forget, Because They Have Not The Words To Make Us Remember. ... By The Time They Learn To Speak They Have Forgotten The Details Of Their Complaints, And So We Never Know. They Forget So Quickly, We Say, Because We Cannot Contemplate The Fact That They Never Forget.

There Are Some Writers Who Wrote Too Much. There Are Others Who Wrote Enough. There Are Yet Others Who Wrote Nothing Like Enough To Satisfy Their Admirers, And Jane Austen Is Certainly One Of These.

Because If One Has An Image, However Dim And Romantic, Of A Journey's End, One May, In The End, Surely Reach It, After No Matter How Many Detours And Deceptions And Abandonings Of Hope. And Hope Could Never Have Been Entirely Abandoned, Even In The Worst Days.

Why Can't People Be Both Flexible And Efficient?