Little Words When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf, Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds; And I can only stare, and shape my grief In little words. I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown The bitter woe that racks my cords apart. The weary pen that sets my sorrow down Feeds at my heart. There is no mercy in the shifting year, No beauty wraps me tenderly about. I turn to little words- so you, my dear, Can spell them out.

Hollywood is one place in the world where you can die of encouragement.

He lies below, correct in cypress wood, And entertains the most exclusive worms.

Scratch a lover, and find a foe.

I can’t write five words but that I change seven.

Mrs. Ewing was a short woman who accepted the obligation borne by so many short women to make up in vivacity what they lack in number of inches from the ground.

Then if my friendships break and bend, There's little need to cry The while I know that every foe Is faithful till I die.