Call Me Sentimental, But There's No-one In

She Had Reached A Turning Point. She No Longer Believed That A Situation Could Be Made Better By Writing A Poem About It.

These Days Grief Seems Like Walking On A Frozen River; Most Of The Time He Feels Safe Enough, But There Is Always That Danger That He Will Plunge Through. Now He Hears The Ice Creak Beneath Him, And So Intense And Panicking Is The Sensation That He Has To Stand For A Moment, Press His Hands To His Face And Catch His Breath.

Read A Book At The Right Age And It Will Stay With You For Life.

Failure And Unhappiness Is Easier Because You Can Make A Joke Out Of It.

We're Not Ourselves, Are We? I'm Certainly Not Myself, Not Anymore. And You're Not Either. You Don't Seem Yourself. Not As I Remember You.