Of all our sorrows, memory is the worst.
She died praying that she might die.
We are divorced, North from South, because we have hated each other so. If we could only separate politely, and not have a horrid fight for divorce.
A freshet in the autumn does not compensate for a drought in the spring.
Oh, if I could put some of my reckless spirit into these discreet cautious lazy men!
To think there are men who dare so defile a church, a sacred sanctuary dedicated to God. We have to hold up our skirts and walk tiptoe, so covered is the floor, the aisle and pews, with the dark shower of tobacco juice.