Women--wives and mothers--are the same everywhere.
Darkest of all Decembers ever has my life known, Sitting here by the embers, stunned, helpless, alone.
Of all our sorrows, memory is the worst.
I do not allow myself vain regrets or foreboding.
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.