I Suppose All Writers Worry About The

Was Anything In The World Truer Than That Intuitive Leap Of The Heart?

I'll Tell You One Thing, Though. It's A Terrible Thing To Be A Disappointment To A Good Woman.

People Who Imagine Themselves To Be Self-made Seldom Enjoy Examining The Process Of Manufacture In Detail.

To His Surprise He Also Discovered That It Was Possible To Be Good At What You Had Little Interest In, Just As It Had Been Possible To Be Bad At Something, Whether Painting Or Poetry, That You Cared About A Great Deal.

I Told Him The Truth, That I Loved Him And Didn't Regret Anything About Our Lives Together. But Do We Ever 'tell The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth, So Help Me God' As My Father Used To Say, To Those We Love? Or Even To Ourselves? Don't Even The Best And Most Fortunate Of Lives Hint At Other Possibilities, At A Different Kind Of Sweetness And, Yes, Bitterness Too? Isn't This Why We Can't Help Feeling Cheated, Even When We Know We Haven't Been?