Perhaps If I Make Myself Write I

Cruel Blows Of Fate Call For Extreme Kindness In The Family Circle.

Prayer's A Very Tricky Business.

He Stood Staring Into The Wood For A Minute, Then Said: "what Is It About The English Countryside — Why Is The Beauty So Much More Than Visual? Why Does It Touch One So?" He Sounded Faintly Sad. Perhaps He Finds Beauty Saddening — I Do Myself Sometimes. Once When I Was Quite Little I Asked Father Why This Was And He Explained That It Was Due To Our Knowledge Of Beauty's Evanescence, Which Reminds Us That We Ourselves Shall Die. Then He Said I Was Probably Too Young To Understand Him; But I Understood Perfectly.

...surely I Could Give Him--a Sort Of Contentment... That Isn't Enough To Give. Not For The Giver.

I Like Seeing People When They Can't See Me.