Love by its presence, like God by His, makes everything not necessarily clear or right or even good, but acceptable. Whereas in its absence, as in His, there is no hope.

Were marriage no more than a convenient screen for sexuality, some less cumbersome and costly protection must have been found by this time to replace it. One concludes therefore that people do not marry to cohabit; they cohabit to marry. They do not seek freedom to rut so much as they seek the rut of wedlock.

I can understand that memory must be selective, else it would choke on the glut of experience. What I cannot understand is why it selects what it does.

Words have their genealogy, their history, their economy, their literature, their art and music, as too they have their weddings and divorces, their successes and defeats, their fevers, their undiagnosable ailments, their sudden deaths. They also have their moral and social distinctions.

Perhaps it is the expediency in the political eye that blinds it.

In Reno, there is always a bull market, never a bear market, for the stocks and bonds of happiness.

There is no plummet to sound another's soul.