New York Is The Meeting

The Heart Of The Jealous Knows The Best And Most Satisfying Love, That Of The Other's Bed, Where The Rival Perfects The Lover's Imperfections.

A Man's Sorrow Runs Uphill; True It Is Difficult For Him To Bear, But It Is Also Difficult For Him To Keep.

I Couldn't Ever Boil Potatoes Over The Heat Of Your Affection. Your Love Would Never Bridge A Gap; It Wouldn't Even Fill Up The Hole That The Mice Came Through.

I Am Not A Critic; To Me Criticism Is So Often Nothing More Than The Eye Garrulously Denouncing The Shape Of The Peephole That Gives Access To Hidden Treasure.

Una's Face Was An Unbroken Block Of Calculation, Saving Where, Upon Her Upper Lip, A Little Down Of Hair Fluttered. Yet It Gave One An Uncanny Feeling. It Made One Think Of A Tassel On A Hammer.