Things Come Suitable To The Time.

If Death Becomes Cheap It Is The Watcher, Not The Dying, Who Is Poisoned.

One's Palate Is Reborn Every Morning!

But I Had Been In Love Pretty Often And I Didn't Think It Stood The Wear And Tear.

Why Do Birds Sing In The Morning? It's The Triumphant Shout: 'we Got Through Another Night!'

It's Not Till Sex Has Died Out Between A Man And A Woman That They Can Really Love. And Now I Mean Affection. Now I Mean To Be Fond Of (as One Is Fond Of Oneself) --to Hope, To Be Disappointed, To Live Inside The Other Heart.