One Of The Marks Of A Gift

I Am In Paris. Yes Ma'am , I Made It Back. I Came Up From Berlin, Stopped Here Ten Days, Fought A Losing Battle Against My Deepest Inclinations, Pulled Myself Out By The Hair And Went To Madrid...madrid Is A Lovely Enchanting City, And There Was Almost Ready For Me A Kind Of Penthouse Full Of Sunlight, A Roof Garden, And So On. I Gave One Look At It All, Returned To The Hotel And Went To Bed And Wept Bitterly For Eleven Hours...why? Because I Had Seen Paris And Could Not Endure The Thought Of Being Anywhere Else.

The Real Sin Against Life Is To Abuse And Destroy Beauty, Even One's Own.

I Think Joy Is Just As Instructive As Pain, And I Like It Better. I Never Meant To Suffer Any More Than I Could Help; My Nature Was Meant For Happiness, A Daylight Art And Living.

We Have The Bad Habit, Some Of Us, Of Looking Back To A Time - Almost Any Time Will Do - When Society Was Stable And Orderly, Family Ties Stronger And Deeper, Love More Lasting And Faithful, And So On. Let Me Be Your Cassandra Prophesying After The Fact, And A Long Study Of The Documents In The Case: It Was Never True, That Is, No Truer Than It Is Now.

You Shouldn't Side-step Suffering If You Have To Go Through It To Get Where You're Going.