I Only Want To Write. And There's

Just To Be In Love Seemed The Most Blissful Luxury I Had Ever Known. The Thought Came To Me That Perhaps It Is The Loving That Counts, Not The Being Loved In Return -- That Perhaps True Loving Can Never Know Anything But Happiness. For A Moment I Felt That I Had Discovered A Great Truth.

Only Half A Page Left Now. Shall I Fill It With 'i Love You, I Love You'-- Like Father's Page Of Cats On The Mat? No. Even A Broken Heart Doesn't Warrant A Waste Of Good Paper.

And No Bathroom On Earth Will Make Up For Marrying A Bearded Man You Hate.

And Who Says You Always Have To Understand Things? You Can Like Them Without Understanding Them -- Like 'em Better Sometimes.

Contemplation Seems To Be About The Only Luxury That Costs Nothing.