Life isn't all beer and skittles; few of us have touched a skittle in years.

I am not afraid of lawyers as I used to be. They are lambs in wolves' clothing.

I, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind, Am urged by your propinquity to find Your person fair, and feel a certain zest To bear your body's weight upon my breast; So subtly is the fume of life designed, To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind, And leave me once again undone, possessed. Think not for this, however, the poor treason Of my stout blood against my staggering brain, I shall remember you with love, or season My scorn with pity, - let me make it plain: I find this frenzy insufficient reason For conversation when we meet again.

A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?

Life has no friend.

Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.

The world stands out on either side, No wider than the heart is wide.