Sometimes I Ask Myself What Would I

Something May Have Been Lost In Translation, But It Certainly Wasn't Love

But What Does He Do To Qualify As A Sonovabitch?” Jenny Asked. “make Me”, I Replied. “beg Pardon?” “make Me”, I Repeated. Her Eyes Widened Like Saucers. “you Mean Like Incest?” She Asked. “don’t Give Me Your Family Problems, Jen. I Have Enough Of My Own.” “like What, Oliver?” She Asked, “like Just What Is It He Makes You Do?” “the ‘right Things’”, I Said. “what’s Wrong With The ‘right Things’?” She Asked, Delighting In The Apparent Paradox.

Sometimes I Amaze Even Myself.

Quiet Heroism Or Youthful Idealism, Or Both? What Do We Know? That Life Without Heroism And Idealism Is Not Worth Living - Or That Either Can Be Fatal?

The Pain Of Not Knowing What To Do Was Exceeded Only By That Of Knowing What I Had Done.