Ralph Also Took Some Classes In Philosophy

Woke Up This Morning With A Terrific Urge To Lie In Bed All Day And Read. Fought Against It For A Minute. Then Looked Out The Window At The Rain. And Gave Over. Put Myself Entirely In The Keep Of This Rainy Morning. Would I Live My Life Over Again? Make The Same Unforgivable Mistakes? Yes, Given Half A Chance. Yes.

Mel Thought Real Love Was Nothing Less Than Spiritual Love. He'd Said He'd Spent Five Years In A Seminary Before Quitting To Go To Medical School. He Said He Still Looked Back On Those Years In The Seminary As The Most Important Years Of His Life.

There Isn't Enough Of Anything As Long As We Live. But At Intervals A Sweetness Appears And, Given A Chance Prevails.

If We're Lucky, Writer And Reader Alike, We'll Finish The Last Line Or Two Of A Short Story And Then Just Sit For A Minute, Quietly. Ideally, We'll Ponder What We've Just Written Or Read; Maybe Our Hearts Or Intellects Will Have Been Moved Off The Peg Just A Little From Where They Were Before. Our Body Temperature Will Have Gone Up, Or Down, By A Degree. Then, Breathing Evenly And Steadily Once More, We'll Collect Ourselves, Writers And Readers Alike, Get Up, "created Of Warm Blood And Nerves" As A Chekhov Character Puts It, And Go On To The Next Thing: Life. Always Life.

I Guess My Writing Has Changed As My Life Has.