I Speak As I Must And Cannot

Places Have Their Own Characters. . . . But The People Begin To Look The Same.

Some Things Can Be Both Real And Imaginary At The Same Time, . . . Some Lies Can Be True, . . . Broken Faith May Be Restored.

Drunkeness, She Told Us In A Rare Moment Of Confidence, Is A Sin Against The Fruit, The Tree, The Wine Itself. Wine, Distilled And Nurtured From Bud Into Fruit; It Deserves Reverance. Joy. Gentleness. (page 194.)

I'm Phobic About The Idea Of Being Constrained.

I Like Autumn. The Drama Of It; The Golden Lion Roaring Through The Back Door Of The Year, Shaking Its Mane Of Leaves. A Dangerous Time; Of Violent Rages And Deceptive Calm, Of Fireworks In The Pockets And Conkers In The Fist.