Behind Everything We Feel, There Is Always

We Play Make Believe, Pretend To Take Ourselves And Each Other Seriously--to Love Each Other, Hate Each Other--but Then--it Isn't True. It Isn't True, We Don't Care At All!

It So Difficult To Know What The People We Love Really Need.

We Cannot Bear To Regard Ourselves Simply As Playthings Of Blind Chance, We Cannot Admit To Feeling Ourselves Abandoned.

All Of Us Are Mad. If It Weren't For The Fact That Every One Of Us Is Slightly Abnormal, There Wouldn't Be Any Point In Giving Each Person A Separate Name.

Sisterly Love Is, Of All Sentiments, The Most Abstract. Nature Does Not Grant It Any Functions.