So We Tell The Same Story, Over

There Didn't Seem To Her Any Harm In It, And The Make-believe Was So Comforting.

The Worst Part Of Great Poverty Is That You Become Blind To It.

There Was No Such Thing As Perfect Privacy, Life Was A Perpetual Concert-hall Recital With A Captive Audience.

Remembering Bred Its Own Peculiar Sorrow. It Seemed So Unfair: That Time Should Render Both Sadness And Happiness Into A Source Of Pain.

Loss Is Essential, Loss Is Part And Parcel Of That Necessary Calamity Called Life. Mind You, I'm Not Complaining. Thanks To Some Inexplicable Universal Guiding Force, It Is Always The Worthless Things We Lose - Slough Off, Like A Moulting Snake. Losing And Losing Again, Is The Very Basis Of The Process, Til All We Are Left With Is The Bare Essence Of Human Existence.