Even people capable of living in the past don't really know what the future holds.

Once I fell in love with books, I fell in love completely.

You can't deny laughter; when it comes, it plops down in your favorite chair and stays as long as it wants.

A marriage was like a house under constant construction, each year seeing the completion of new rooms. A first-year marriage was a cottage; one that had gone on for twenty-seven years was a huge and rambling mansion. There were bound to be crannies and storage spaces, most of them dusty and abandoned, some containing a few unpleasant relics you would just as soon you hadn't found. But that was no biggie. You either threw those relics out or took them to Goodwill.

And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.

Death is a mystery, and burial is a secret.

Don't look back, never look back. How often do people tell themselves that after an experience that is exceptionally good (or exceptionally bad?)? Often, I suppose. And the advice usually goes unheeded. Humans were built to look back; that's why we have tat swivel joint in our necks.