Never explain, never complain.

Never explain, never complain.

I hate this place. I shall hate it to my grave.

A marriage, even one that goes awry, generates claims and needs that persist like an afterglow long after the emotional fire is burned out.

There is a peacefulness, an air of reflection, about a rocking-chair that attaches to no other moving object.

All this was mine; but I was a long time learning that wisdom and experience are things apart; that to taste life is not to be confused with understanding what life is really all about. The shared experiences, the wisdom so freely proffered by others, in words and in example, rarely swayed me for long. Came another day and the import was gone, and only the echo of the laughter remained. Experience was a revolving sun in the warmth of which I was content to bask.

I have always had the courage for the new things that life sometimes offers.