I Write About What I Know; And

He Didn't Like It All That Much When He First Came - All The Rubbish And The Rush - But It Was Growing On Him, It Wasn't Half Bad. Coming To The City Was Like Entering A Tunnel, He Said, And Finding To Your Surprise That The Light At The End Didn't Matter; Sometimes In Fact The Tunnel Made The Light Tolerable.

People Think They Know The Mystery Of Living In Your Skin. They Don't. There's No One Who Knows Except The Person Who Carts It Around Her Own Self.

Even If You're Going To Die, You Might As Well Die Pretty.

She Takes Another Long Haul, Lets The Smoke Settle In Her Lungs-- She Has Heard Somewhere That Cigarettes Are Good For Grief. One Long Drag And You Forget How To Cry. The Body Too Busy Dealing With The Poison.

Part Of Me Really Wants To Believe That Hope Is Entirely Available To All Of Us. We Don't Have To Embrace It. It Would Be Sentimental And Silly To Say That We All Need It, But It Is Absolutely Available To All Of Us.