Books Have Become Products, Like Cereal Or

To Anyone With A Drop Of Irish Blood In Them The Land They Live On Is Like Their Mother. It's The Only Thing That Lasts, That's Worth Working For, For Fighting For

Books Have Become Products, Like Cereal Or Perfume Or Deodorant.

But You Know Who You Are When You're On Your Own Out There In All That Emptiness. There's No Past, No Holding On To The Scraps That Are All You've Got Left. Everything Is That Minute, Or Maybe Tomorrow, Not Yesterday.

One Of The Injustices Of The World Was That It Was So Easy To Make The Innocent And Caring Ones Happy With So Little.

And If Things Always Stayed The Same, Scarlett, What Would Be The Reason For Bothering To Draw Breath?