Destiny And History Are Untidy.

You Beat The Liver Out Of A Goose To Get A Pâté; You Pound The Muscles Of A Man's Cardia To Get A Philosopher.

What Is A Ruin But Time Easing Itself Of Endurance?

The Very Condition Of Woman Is So Subject To Hazard, So Complex, And So Grievous, That To Place Her At One Moment Is But To Displace Her At The Next.

I Have Been Loved,' She Said, 'by Something Strange, And It Has Forgotten Me.

I Couldn't Ever Boil Potatoes Over The Heat Of Your Affection. Your Love Would Never Bridge A Gap; It Wouldn't Even Fill Up The Hole That The Mice Came Through.