That Is Partly Why Women

Good-byes Breed A Sort Of Distaste For Whomever You Say Good-bye To; This Hurts, You Feel, This Must Not Happen Again.

There Is No Doubt That Sorrow Brings One Down In The World. The Aristocratic Privilege Of Silence Belongs, You Soon Find Out, To Only The Happy State- Or, At Least, To The State When Pain Keeps Within Bounds.

The Wish To Lead Out One's Lover Must Be A Tribal Feeling; The Wish To Be Seen As Loved Is Part Of One's Self-respect.

Roughly, The Action Of A Character Should Be Unpredictable Before It Has Been Shown, Inevitable When It Has Been Shown. In The First Half Of A Novel, The Unpredictability Should Be The More Striking. In The Second Half, The Inevitability Should Be The More Striking.

We Desert Those Who Desert Us; We Cannot Afford To Suffer; We Must Live How We Can.