There is no use in loving things if you have to be torn from them, is there? And it's so hard to keep from loving things, isn't it?

It's so dreadful to have nothing to love - life is so empty - and there's nothing worse than emptiness.

Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare... Perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways.

Besides, I've been feeling a little blue — just a pale, elusive azure. It isn't serious enough for anything darker.

We've had a beautiful friendship, Diana. We've never marred it by one quarrel or coolness or unkind word; and I hope it will always be so. But things can't be quite the same after this. You'll have other interests. I'll just be on the outside.

The only true animal is a cat, and the only true cat is a gray cat.

Don't you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back?