We're Not Meant For Happiness, You And

People Who Travel Are Always Fugitives.

I Am Glad It Cannot Happen Twice, The Fever Of First Love. For It Is A Fever, And A Burden, Too, Whatever The Poets May Say.

She Knew That This Was Happiness, This Was Living As She Had Always Wished To Live.

A Bad Workman Blames His Tools.

But Luxury Has Never Appealed To Me, I Like Simple Things, Books, Being Alone, Or With Somebody Who Understands.