I never ate of the grapes nor feared of the eruptions.
I'm so depressed. Christmas is the worst of all. Holidays are terrible, worse than Sundays. I get melancholia.
I don't think I'm going to do any good work this morning.
The little religion that I have clung to-that what matters most is the continuity of life, and its improvement from one generation to another.
Thank God for your mother.
She has good instincts, but wrong judgments. She'll rue the day.