To write it, it took three months; to conceive it three minutes; to collect the data in it all my life.

Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay.

The farmers may be the backbone of the country, but who wants to be a backbone?

I have never wished there was a God to call on- I have often wished there was a God to thank.

No," interrupted Marcia emphatically. "And you're a sweet boy. Come here and kiss me." Horace stopped quickly in front of her. "Why do you want me to kiss you?" he asked intently. "Do you just go round kissing people?" "Why, yes," admitted Marcia, unruffled. "'At's all life is. Just going around kissing people.

You see I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad things that happened to me.

Long afterward Amory thought of sophomore spring as the happiest time of his life. His ideas were in tune with life as he found it; he wanted no more than to drift and dream and enjoy a dozen new-found friendships through the April afternoons.