The ghost of gasoline rising from a lady's glove might be sweeter to the man riding beside her than all the scents of Arcady in spring.

It depends on the lady-- but there ARE! Three miles may be three hundred miles, or it may be three feet.

When it is three feet you have not time to say a great deal before you reach the end of it.

Still, it may be that one should begin to speak.
No one could help wishing to stay in a world that holds some of the people that are in this world.

There are some so wonderful you do not understand how the dead COULD die.