Whatโs broken is brokenโand Iโd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I liveโฆIโm too old to believe in such sentimentalities as clean slates and starting all over.
Margaret MitchellYou are a child if you thought I didnโt know, for all your smothering yourself under that hot lap robe. Of course, I knew. Why else do you think Iโve beenโโ He stopped suddenly and a silence fell between them. He picked up the reins and clucked to the horse.
Margaret MitchellHe made her play and she had almost forgotten how. Life had been so serious and so bitter. He knew how to play and swept her along with him.
Margaret Mitchell