I Never Met An Author Who Admitted

Nothing In The World Is Permanent, And We’re Foolish When We Ask Anything To Last, But Surely We’re Still More Foolish Not To Take Delight In It While We Have It.

To Write Simply Is As Difficult As To Be Good.

There Are Few Things So Pleasant As A Picnic Eaten In Perfect Comfort.

She Says It's Really Not Very Flattering To Her That The Women Who Fall In Love With Her Husband Are So Uncommonly Second-rate.

In Heaven, When The Blessed Use The Telephone They Will Say What They Have To Say And Not A Word Besides.