Emotions like these didn't happen to regular, everyday people. They couldn't or else the entire world would be fornicating all the time.

He had not moved.  But, her blue eyes on his face, she did not rise.  ‘Lord, is there nothing in the cup for me? While you were drinking, I was singing to you.’  The detachment had gone from his face, but not the strength. He shook his head; and rising, Marthe turned and walked from the room.

A person within me, is my best friend; to whom I can give all my trust.

I know a little bit about a great many things and not enough about any one to make a living in these times.

Written By John Steinbeck

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