The roses, the lovely notes, the dining and dancing are all welcome and splendid. But when the Godiva is gone, the gift of real love is having someone who'll go the distance with you. Someone who, when the wedding day limo breaks down, is willing to share a seat on the bus.
I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage with my books, my family and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post, which any human power can give.
What's sad about not eating is the experience, whether at a family reunion or at midnight by yourself in a greasy spoon under the L tracks. The loss of dining, not the loss of food.
As difficult as it is to have company within one's house, the absence of company is more so. The quiet echoing of solitary footsteps within the halls is suddenly amplified without the voices of excited guests. The clinking of plates and silver has narrowed to individual forks and spoons instead of the enchanting din of dining. The natural creaks and squeaks of the home are louder and more surprising.
No animal should ever jump up on the dining-room furniture unless absolutely certain that he can hold his own in the conversation.