It has been remarked (by a lady infinitely cleverer than the present author) how kindly disposed the world in general feels to young people who either die or marry.

But aren't many gardens beautiful because they are imperfect?...aren't the strange, new flowers that arise by mistake or misadventure as pleasing as the well-tended and planned?

Sweep off those futile words,which have no tempo to your dance in this world.

Please send me a bill for your services through”—he looked at his watch—“through today,” he said. “And you’ll pay it with a rubber check,” I said.

Written By Robert B. Parker

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