First experiences never fade, we keep searching for their reflections when we have the next.

saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

What, sir, would the people of the earth be without woman? They would be scarce, sir, almighty scarce.

... a prudent archer has always a second bowstring

Written By Henry James

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