I Will Think Of You Every Time

And When I Raised Myself To Look At The Man Who'd Spoken, I Had A Feeling Of Leaving My Misery Behind Me There On The Stone Wall.

His Face Was Very Heavily Creased, And Into Each Crease He Had Tucked Some Worry Or Other, So That It Wasn't Really His Face Any Longer, But More Like A Tree That Had Nests Of Birds In All Of The Branches. He Had To Struggle Constantly To Manage It And Always Looked Worn Out From The Effort.

Passion Can Quickly Slip To Jealousy, Or Even Hatred.

If Those Sorts Of Moments Would Be The Only Pleasure Life Offered Me, I'd Be Better Off Shutting Out That One Brilliant Source Of Light To Let My Eyes Begin To Adjust To The Darkness.

If A Few Minutes Of Suffering Could Make Me So Angry, What Would Years Of It Do? Even A Stone Can Be Worn Down With Enough Rain.