You're an old woman, Emily, and there's no fool like an old fool. The man's twenty years younger than you, and don't you fool yourself as to what he married you for. Money!
Pebbles […]reposed in those cliffs amongst the earth […] are left behind.
We're not looking to become workaholics who don't know how to rest or vacation, or who never hang it up long enough to go to a movie.
He listened, and with respect too, to Mr. Foker’s accounts of what the men did at the University of which Mr. F. was an ornament, and encountered a long series of stories about boat-racing, bumping, College grass-plats, and milk-punch—and began to wish to go up himself to College to a place where there were such manly pleasures and enjoyments.
