Silences Have A Climax, When

Whenever Possible I Avoid Talking. Reprieve From Talking Is My Idea Of A Holiday. At Risk Of Seeming Unsociable, Which I Am, I Admit I Love To Be Left In A Beatific Trance, When I Am In One. Friendly Romans Recognize That Wish.

... Artists Were Intended To Be An Ornament To Society. As A Society In Themselves They Are Unthinkable.

All My Life I Have Said, "whatever Happens There Will Always Be Tables And Chairs"--and What A Mistake.

People In Love, In Whom Every Sense Is Open, Cannot Beat Off The Influence Of A Place.

Good-byes Breed A Sort Of Distaste For Whomever You Say Good-bye To; This Hurts, You Feel, This Must Not Happen Again.