HB Journal for May 17, 1939

Just before we came in sight of Niagra Falls last summer on our trip, I had a little feeling of regret that our destination was so nearly reached and hoped almost despairingly that the anticipation might be prolonged.

And so it is in many cases. The anticipation is so enjoyable that we fear that the actual realization of a hope or plan might prove less blissful.

Could that, by chance, explain the trouble within me when I feel a grievous pain at the thought of all my "girl-pleasing, girl-teasing" days drawing so surely to a close.