I am volatile for one, rigid for another, angular as an icicle in silver, or voluptuous as a candle flame in gold.
Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living?
literature is the record of our discontent.
I want to write a novel about Silence," he said; โthe things people donโt say.
Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame.
I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.