“
Gone are the summer days
and my mind along with them.
No longer will I indulge
in hopes of getting you back.
It is hope that makes these chains heavier
and autumnal nights longer.
I will merely serve as a memory to you:
the lover that recited love poems.
I must go now
and I urge you not to look back.
”
―
―
“
Of all modern notions, the worst is this: that domesticity is dull. Inside the home, they say, is dead decorum and routine; outside is adventure and variety. But the truth is that the home is the only place of liberty, the only spot on earth where a man can alter arrangements suddenly, make an experiment or indulge in a whim. The home is not the one tame place in a world of adventure; it is the one wild place in a world of rules and set tasks.
”
―
―
