But Youth Isn't Happy. Youth Is Sadder

It Was A Perfect Spring Afternoon, And The Air Was Filled With Vague, Roving Scents, As If The Earth Exhaled The Sweetness Of Hidden Flowers.

It Is Difficult To Deal Successfully, He Decided, With A Woman Whose Feelings Cannot Be Hurt.

For My Own Purpose, I Defined The Art Of Fiction As Experience Illuminated.

Happiness Is A Hardy Annual.

[reformers] Might Be Classified As A Distinct Species Having Eyes In The Back Of Their Heads.