We Don't Know Where We're Going, But

I'm Just Tired Of Everything…even Of The Echoes. There Is Nothing In My Life But Echoes…echoes Of Lost Hopes And Dreams And Joys. They're Beautiful And Mocking.

It's All Very Well To Read About Sorrows And Imagine Yourself Living Through Them Heroically, But It's Not So Nice When You Really Come To Have Them, Is It?

…determined To Enjoy Her Luxury Of Grief Uncomforted.

When You've Learned To Laugh At The Things That Should Be Laughed At, And Not To Laugh At Those That Shouldn't, You've Got Wisdom And Understanding. -aunt Jimsie

Valancy Herself Had Never Quite Relinquished A Certain Pitiful, Shamed, Little Hope That Romance Would Come Her Way Yet - Never, Until This Wet, Horrible Morning, When She Wakened To The Fact That She Was Twenty-nine And Unsought By Any Man. Ay, There Lay The Sting. Valancy Did Not Mind So Much Being An Old Maid. After All, She Thought, Being An Old Maid Couldn’t Possibly Be As Dreadful As Being Married To An Uncle Wellignton Or An Uncle Benjamin, Or Even An Uncle Herbert. What Hurt Her Was That She Had Never Had A Chance To Be Anything But An Old Maid.