Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.

I fell in love, not deep, but I fell several times and then fell out.

Calling it off comes easy enough if you haven't told the girl you are smitten with her.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.

We read Robert Browning's poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.

I have become infected, now that I see how beautifully a book is coming out of all this.

We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.

Every blunder behind us is giving a cheer for us, and only for those who were willing to fail are the dangers and splendors of life.