Great Writers Are The Saints For The

And Without Understanding, Could Each Properly Love The Other?

The Evening Passes Somehow; I Watch Television With Nancy, Or I Write. It Is Difficult, Not Having A Family, And It Is Difficult To Explain. I Always Go To Bed Early. And I Am Always Ready For Monday Morning, That Time That Other People Dread.

There Are Moments When You Feel Free, Moments When You Have Energy, Moments When You Have Hope, But You Can't Rely On Any Of These Things To See You Through. Circumstances Do That.

I Think You Always Feel Braver In Another Language.

That Sun, That Light Had Faded, And She Had Faded With Them. Now She Was As Grey As The Season Itself.