Every day I live I am more convinced that the waste of life lies in the love we have not given, the powers we have not used, the selfish pru-dence that will risk nothing and which, shirking pain, misses happiness as well. No one ever yet was the poorer in the long run for having once in a lifetime “let out all the length of all thereins.”
MARY CHOLMONDELEY(1859–1925)
Writer
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