I Like A Composer Called Henry Purcell,

I Will Try To Write Books Until I Drop Dead.

Memories, So Sweet And Bitter.. They Had Both Nourished And Devoured Him For So Many Years. Until A Time Came When They Began To Fade, Turning Faint And Blurred, Only An Ache To Be Quickly Pushed Away Because It Went To Your Heart. For What Was The Use Of Remembering All You Had Lost?

Fire And Water," He Said, "don't Really Mix. You Could Say They're Incompatible. But When They Do Love Each Other, They Love Passionately.

Neither Goyl Nor Men Lived Long Enough To Understand That Yesterday Was Born Of Tomorrow, Just As Tomorrow Was Born Of Yesterday.

She Is A Real Bookworm. I Think She Lives On Print. Her Whole House Is Full Of Books - Looks As If She Likes Them Better Than Human Company.