Let This Serve As An

Dead News Like Dead Love Has No Phoenix In Its Ashes.

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. When I Look Back On The Pain Of Sex, The Love Like A Wild Fox So Ready To Bite, The Antagonism That Sits Like A Twin Beside Love, And Contrast It With Affection, So Deeply Unrepeatable, Of Two People Who Have Lived A Life Together (and Of Whom One Must Die) It's The Affection I Find Richer. It's That I Would Have Again. Not All Those Doubtful Rainbow Colors.

The Theatre Is A Gross Art, Built In Sweeps And Over-emphasis. Compromise Is Its Second Name.

An Only Child Is Never Twelve.

If A Dog Doesn't Put You First Where Are You Both? In What Relation? A Dog Needs God. It Lives By Your Glances, Your Wishes. It Even Shares Your Humor. This Happens About The Fifth Year. If It Doesn't Happen You Are Only Keeping An Animal.