The days of my youth are past and to a woman full grown a kiss means everything — or nothing. - Pearl S. Buck

Here was that question: Was life sad or happy? She did not mean her life or any one life, but life itself — was it sad or happy? If she but had the answer to that first question, Peony thought, then she would have her guide. If life could and should be happy, if to be alive itself was good, then why should she not try for everything that could be hers? But if, when all was won, life itself was sad, then she must content herself with what she had. Now this old question thrust itself before her, and she found no answer in her heart.

This is I. I am as you see me. I do not care to be otherwise.

We learn as much from sorrow as from joy, as much from illness as from health, from handicap as from advantage — and indeed perhaps more.