Time had a way of moulding people into shapes they themselves no longer recognised.
Better to lose oneself in action than to wither in despair.
Oh, there was harm indeed for a young lady flattered by the brief attentions of a handsome man.
Hope's one thing, expectation's quite another.
Darling girl, blinded by foolish thoughts of love. How to tell her that the hearts of men were not so easily won. If won, rarely kept.
She's one of the few people able to look beyond the lines on my face to see the twenty-year-old who lives inside.