Perfect Love May Cast Our Fear, But

Unnatural Death Always Provoked A Peculiar Unease, An Uncomfortable Realization That There Were Still Some Things That Might Not Be Susceptible To Bureaucratic Control.

The Greatest Mystery Of All Is The Human Heart.

A Picnic May Well Be A Metaphor For Life. The Essentials For Happiness Are The Right Company, Moderate If Sanguine Expectations And A Reasonable Standard Of Physical Sustenance And Comfort, The Whole Being Bedeviled By The Belief That There Is Always Something Better To Be Had If Only One Presses On.

Perfect Love May Cast Our Fear, But Fear Is Remarkably Potent In Casting Out Love.

The Weekend Break Had Begun With The Usual Resentment And Had Continued With Half-repressed Ill Humour. It Was, Of Course, His Fault. He Had Been More Ready To Hurt His Wife's Feelings And Deprive His Daughter Than Inconvenience A Pub Bar Full Of Strangers. He Wished There Could Be One Memory Of His Dead Child Which Wasn't Tainted With Guilt And Regret.