I really wish they hadn't made the set out of asbestos.
It's a small world. It keeps recrossing itself.
Love's pure free joy when it works, but when it goes bad you pay for the good hours at loan-shark prices.
She has to lose her pre-Copernican view of a universe revolving around herself.
Gosh. The subjunctive is always the first to go.
Eva. Every day I've climbed up the belfry chanting a lucky chant at one syllable per beat, "To-day-to-day-let-her-be-here-to-day-to-day.