I Love You. I Will Love You

Sometimes It Is Better Not To Know. Sometimes When You Do Know You Just Fold Up.

I Almost Wish I'd Had The Forethought To Eat A Tree Myself.

She Fell Asleep, Leaning On His Chest, And He Edged Her A Little Off A Particularly Painful Bruise, Leaned His Head Back Against The Tree He Had Propped Them Up Against, And Closed His Own Eyes.

She Poured The Water, Arranged Some Bread Near Enough The Embers To Scorch But Not Catch Fire, And Looked Up At Little John. She Was So Accustomed To His Step, To His Bulk, That It Took A Moment To Notice His Face; And When She Did . . . It Was, She Thought, Rather Like The Moment It Took To Realize One Had Cut One's Finger As One Stared Dumbly At The First Drop Of Blood On The Knife-blade. You Know It Is Going To Hurt Quite A Lot In A Minute.

My Capacity For Invention Is Flash Hot Stark, I Thought. Sucker Sunshade. Disembodied Radar-reconnaissance. Not To Mention Bitter Chocolate Death And Killer Zebras. Pity About The Rest Of Me.