People Who Travel Are Always Fugitives.

She Knew That This Was Happiness, This Was Living As She Had Always Wished To Live.

Sometimes It’s A Sort Of Indulgence To Think The Worst Of Ourselves. We Say, ‘now I Have Reached The Bottom Of The Pit, Now I Can Fall No Further,’ And It Is Almost A Pleasure To Wallow In The Darkness. The Trouble Is, It’s Not True. There Is No End To The Evil In Ourselves, Just As There Is No End To The Good. It’s A Matter Of Choice. We Struggle To Climb, Or We Struggle To Fall. The Thing Is To Discover Which Way We’re Going.

How Pleasant,' Dona Said, Peeling Her Fruit; 'the Rest Of Us Can Only Run Away From Time To Time, And However Much We Pretend To Be Free, We Know It Is Only For A Little While - Our Hands And Our Feet Are Tied.

No, Mary Had No Illusions About Romance. Falling In Love Was A Pretty Name For It, That Was All.

The Urge To Climb Will Never Be Explained. In Olden Days, Perhaps It Was A Wish To Reach The Stars. Today, Anyone So Minded Can Buy A Seat On A Plane And Feel Himself Master Of The Skies. Even So, He Will Not Have Rock Under His Feet, Or Air Upon His Face; Nor Will He Know The Silence That Comes Only On The Hills.