Her tears were partly tears of happiness, for she felt that the strangeness between them was gone. She loved him now with a new love because he had m… - William Somerset Maugham

It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched, for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real they are bruised and wounded.

In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing. It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time.

I did not hesitate to put the question that came to the tip of my tongue. After all, if you want to know something the best way is to ask.