Our Tree Became The Talking

The Trouble Is You Almost Have To Marry A Man Before You Can Find Out The Sort Of Wife He Needs; And Usually It's Exactly The Sort You Are Not.

William Tavener Never Heeded Ominous Forecasts In The Domestic Horizon, And He Never Looked For A Storm Until It Broke.

One Realizes That Human Relationships Are The Tragic Necessity Of Human Life; That They Can Never Be Wholly Satisfactory, That Every Ego Is Half The Time Greedily Seeking Them, And Half The Time Pulling Away From Them. In Those Simple Relationships Of Loving Husband And Wife, Affectionate Sisters, Children And Grandmother, There Are Innumerable Shades Of Sweetness And Anguish Which Make Up The Pattern Of Our Lives Day By Day, Though They Are Not Down In The List Of Subjects From Which The Conventional Novelist Works.

It Is Easy To Pity When Once One's Vanity Has Been Tickled.

Too Much Detail Is Apt, Like Any Other Form Of Extravagance, To Become Slightly Vulgar.