He felt married to her, that was all.

Then there came a faraway, booming voice like a low, clear bell. It came from the center of the bowl and down the great sides to the ground and then bounced toward her eagerly. 'You see I am fate,' it shouted, 'and stronger than your puny plans; and I am how-things-turn-out and I am different from your little dreams, and I am the flight of time and the end of beauty and unfulfilled desire; all the accidents and imperceptions and the little minutes that shape the crucial hours are mine. I am the exception that proves no rules, the limits of your control, the condiment in the dish of life.

But you can love more than just one person, can't you?

Young people do not perceive at once that the giver of wounds is the enemy and the quoted tattle merely the arrow.

It’s just that I feel so sad these wonderful nights. I sort of feel they’re never coming again, and I’m not really getting all I could out of them.

And after reading Thoreau I felt how much I have lost by leaving nature out of my life.

Who would not be pleased at carrying lamps helpfully through the darkness?