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According to the strange mathematics of the god of mutual affinity, the shadows that clouded their pasts when united became only half as dense instead of darker.
- The World And The Door
She plucked from my lapel the invisible strand of lint (the universal act of woman to proclaim ownership).
But when a sick person begins to feel that he’s going to die, half my work is useless.
"We are grown stiff with the ramrod of convention down our backs.
Наша спина, вечно подпираемая железным каркасом условностей, давно закостенела.
(O. Henry, "The Green Door")"
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It was beautiful and simple, as truly great swindles are.
The bottle, with its impotent message, was gone out to sea, and the problem that it had provoked was reduced to a simple sum in addition — one and one make two, by the rule of arithmetic; one by the rule of romance.
It would seem that the story is ended, instead of begun; that the close of a tragedy and the climax of a romance have covered the ground of interest; but, to the more curious reader it shall be some slight instruction to trace the close threads that underlie the ingenuous web of circumstances.
Life is full of sniffles sobs and smiles. With sniffles predominating.
You can't appreciate home till you've left it, money till it's spent, your wife till she's joined a women's club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.
A straw vote only shows which way the hot air blows.
"She thrusts hurriedly into your hand an extremely hot buttered roll, flashes out a tiny pair of scissors, snips off the second button of your overcoat, meaningly ejaculates the one word, "parallelogram!" and swiftly flies down a cross street, looking back fearfully over her shoulder. That"
The gray ghost that sometimes peeps through the rings of smoke is that of slain old King Convention. Freedom is the tyrant that holds them in slavery.
The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet and greet unknown fate. A fine example was the Prodigal Son—when he started back home.
Pull up the shades so I can see New York. I don't want to go home in the dark.
Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?