So vast, so limitless in capacity is man’s imagination to disperse and burn away the rubble-dross of fact and probability, leaving only truth and dream.
The past is never dead. It’s not even past.
Menfolks listens to somebody because of what he says. Women don’t. They don’t care what he said. They listens because of what he is.
Maybe the only thing worse than having to give gratitude constantly is having to accept it.