You see," she concluded miserably, "when I can call like that to him across space--I belong to him. He doesn't love me--he never will--but I belong to him.

Reading stories is bad enough but writing them is worse.

People who don't like cats always seem to think there is some peculiar virtue in not liking them.

Human nature is not obliged to be consistent.

She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.

We are both going to pray that we may live together all our lives and die the same day.

The trouble with you people is that you don't laugh enough.