Cruel Blows Of Fate Call For Extreme

Still, Looking Through The Old Volumes Was Soothing, Because Thinking Of The Past Made The Present Seem A Little Less Real.

Everything In The Least Connected With Him Has Value For Me; If Someone Even Mentions His Name It Is Like A Little Present To Me-and I Long To Mention It Myself

Sometimes [the Expression] Old Age Has A Kind Of Harrowing Beauty. But Elderly - Ugh!

Was I The Only Woman In The World Who, At My Age - And After A Lifetime Of Quite Rampant Independence - Still Did Not Quite Feel Grown Up?

Only Half A Page Left Now. Shall I Fill It With 'i Love You, I Love You'-- Like Father's Page Of Cats On The Mat? No. Even A Broken Heart Doesn't Warrant A Waste Of Good Paper.