When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.
We have really everything in common with America nowadays except, of course, language.
I've never quite believed that one chance is all I get.
What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth - Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?
I'd never looked down the barrel of a gun before, but everything you've heard about the experience is true.
Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up.
I?m telling you, things are getting out of hand. Or maybe I?m discovering that things were never in my hands.