To a woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.

She hadbecome so thoroughly annealed into his life that she was like theair he breathed--necessary but scarcely noticed.

He had become enveloped in the Indian Summer of the Soul.

I love being the hunter. I don't like being the hunted, I don't like the attention.

Now, girls, if you want to observe a young man hustle out after a pick and shovel, just tell him that your heart is in some other fellow's grave. Young men are grave-robbers by nature.