The Saluki Is A Marvel Of Elegance.

A Letter, By Its Arrival, Defrauds Us Of A Whole Secret Region Of Our Existence, The Only Region Indeed In Which The True Pleasure Of Life May Be Tasted, The Region Of Imagination, Creative And Protean, The Clouds And Beautiful Shapes Of Whose Heaven Are Destroyed By The Wind Of Reality.

It Always Seemed To Me That The Herbaceous Peony Is The Very Epitome Of June. Larger Than Any Rose, It Has Something Of The Cabbage Rose's Voluminous Quality; And When It Finally Drops From The Vase, It Sheds Its Petticoats With A Bump On The Table, All In An Intact Heap, Much As A Rose Will Suddenly Fall, Making Us Look Up From Our Book Or Conversation, To Notice For One Moment The Death Of What Had Still Appeared To Be A Living Beauty.

Is It Better To Be Extremely Ambitious, Or Rather Modest? Probably The Latter Is Safer; But I Hate Safety, And Would Rather Fail Gloriously Than Dingily Succeed.

There Is Nothing More Lovely In Life Than The Union Of Two People Whose Love For One Another Has Grown Through The Years, From The Small Acorn Of Passion, Into A Great Rooted Tree

I Cannot Bear That You / Should Think Me Faithful, When I Am Untrue.