From An Evolutionary Point Of View, Most

If She Does Have A Failing, And It's Obviously Only A Tiny One, It's That She Doesn't Seem Particularly Curious About Other People, Or Me, Anyway.

Emma Was A Shocking Driver, Simultaneously Sloppy And Petrified, And For The First Fifty Miles Had Been Absent-mindedly Driving With Her Spectacles On Top Of Her Contact Lenses So That Other Traffic Loomed Menacingly Out Of Nowhere Like Alien Space Cruisers.

It's The Face Itself That I Love, Not That Face At Twenty-eight Or Thirty-four Or Forty-three. It's That Face.

Salmon. Salmon, Salmon, Salmon, Salmon. I Eat So Much Salmon At These Weddings, Twice A Year I Get This Urge To Swim Upstream.

People Change, No Use Getting Sentimental About It. Move On, Find Someone Else.