In my opinion, too much attention to weather makes for instability of character.
Don't waste hate on pink geranium.
Robin: When you marry, will you marry? Maria: I have not quite decided yet, but I think I shall marry a boy I knew in London. Robin(yells): What? Marry some mincing nincompoop of a Londoner with silk stockings and a pomade in his hair and face like a...
I have known him nearly all my life, and I am going to marry him, so that there won't ever be a time when I shan't know him.
...The simple little words came easily, fitting themselves to the tune that had come out of the harpsichord. It didn't seem to her that she made them up at all. It seemed to her that they flew in from the rose-garden, through the open window, like a ...
