I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.

The moment of crisis had come, and I must face it. My old fears, my diffidence, my shyness, my hopeless sense of inferiority, must be conquered now and thrust aside. If I failed now I should fail forever.

I would have gone too but I wanted to come straight back to you.I kept thinking of you, waiting here, all by yourself, not knowing what was going to happen.

All whispers and echoes from a past that is gone teem into the sleeper's brain, and he is with them, and part of them.

Nothing like a cup of tea to make a person feel better, man or woman.

No, Mary had no illusions about romance. Falling in love was a pretty name for it, that was all.

We're not meant for happiness, you and I.