We pay for security with boredom, for adventure with bother.

1 tried to write worse but it was no good; my generalizations came out as before, each more exquisite than the last. I grew discouraged.

Time heals nothing—which should make us better able to minister.

Rather than waste precious time arguing, I went up and started serving my “sentence” without delay. It was usually about an hour for epigrams; somewhat longer for a paradox.

He was a lot like those Currier and Ives prints which, having outgrown them, one then laps the field of Sensibility to approach again from behind and see as “wonderful.”

He advised people to have intellect, and to look beneath what he called “the epithelium of things,” though he did discourage scrutiny of his own motives.

I suppose I shall marry eventually. One does that, one drifts into stability.

We turned on one another deep, drowned gazes, and exchanged a kiss that reduced my bones to rubber and my brain to gruel.

All couples must bear the strain of getting acquainted, having been, up to then, merely intimate.

Try the Lamentations of Jeremiah. They always pick me up.