I Live In A World Where Two

Between A Man And A Woman There Was Always One Person Who Was Stronger Than The Other One. That Doesn’t Mean The Weaker One Doesn’t Love The Stronger.

I Knew Something As I Watched: Almost Everyone Was Saying Goodbye To Me. I Was Becoming One Of The Many Little-girl-losts. They Would Go Back To Their Homes And Put Me To Rest, A Letter From The Past Never To Be Reopened Or Reread. And I Could Say Goodbye To Them, Wish Them Well, Bless Them Somehow For Their Good Thoughts. A Handshake In The Street, A Dropped Item Picked Up And Retrieved And Handed Back, Or A Friendly Wave From The Distant Window, A Nod, A Smile, A Moment When The Eyes Lock Over The Antics Of A Child.

The Alcohol Had The Effect Of Making The Black Cloth Blacker. This Amused Her; She Had Noted In Her Journal: "booze Affects Material As It Does People.

Books And Novels In Particular That Grapple With Quite A Few Things Are Difficult To Explain, So I Think That First Line Can Come In A Substitute For Trying To Form A Longer Sense Of What The Book Is About.

I Wish You All A Long And Happy Life