Illness Is The Opposite Of Freedom. It

I've Often Found Myself Preferring Second-rate People To Supposedly Superior People, Simply And Solely Because Of Their Uncontrollable Tendency To Bang Themselves Against The Sides Of Life's Vast Lampshade Like Fireflies Or Moths.

A Strange Melancholy Pervades Me To Which I Hesitate To Give The Grave And Beautiful Name Of Sorrow. The Idea Of Sorrow Has Always Appealed To Me But Now I Am Almost Ashamed Of It's Complete Egoism. I Have Known Boredom, Regret, And Occasionally Remorse, But Never Sorrow. Today It Envelops Me Like A Silken Web, Enervating And Soft, And Sets Me Apart From Everybody Else.

He Lifted Me Up And Held Me Close Against Him, My Head On His Shoulder. At That Moment I Loved Him. In The Morning Light He Was As Golden, As Soft, As Gentle As Myself, And He Would Protect Me.

One Can Never Speak Enough Of The Virtues, The Dangers, The Power Of Shared Laughter.

To Jealousy, Nothing Is More Frightful Than Laughter.