She Would Live Now, Not Read.

I Used To Feel For Years And Years And Years That I Was Very Remiss Not To Have Written A Novel And I Would Question People Who Wrote Novels And Try To Find Out How They Did It And How They Had Got Past Page 30. Then, With The Approach Of Old Age, I Began To Just Think: “well, Lucky I Can Do Anything At All.

Now That I Think Of It, She Looked Splendid. I Wish I Had Met Her Somewhere Else. I Wish I Had Appreciated Her As She Deserved. I Wish That Everything Had Gone Differently.

Every Year, When You're A Child, You Become A Different Person.

Always Remember That When A Man Goes Out Of The Room, He Leaves Everything In It Behind. When A Woman Goes Out She Carries Everything That Happened In The Room Along With Her.

I Despised Their Antics Because I Took Life Seriously And Had A Much More Lofty And Tender Notion Of Romance. But I Would Have Liked To Get Their Attention Just The Same.