The Freedom To Choose...means The Freedom To

Dogs Are Fantasies That Don't Disappoint.

There's Something About Sober Living And Sober Thinking, About Facing Long Afternoons Without The Numbing Distraction Of Anesthesia That Disabuses You Of The Belief In The Externals, Shows You That Strength And Hope Come Not From Circumstances Or The Acquisition Of Things, But From The Simple Accumulation Of Active Experience, From Gritting The Teeth And Checking The Items Off The List, One By One, Even If It's Painful And You're Afraid.

Me, I Walk Along And Feel Quietly Defensive, A Recluse In The Land Of We. That's Quite The Loaded Word, 'we.

I've Always Been Drawn To Solitude, Felt A Kind Of Luxurious Relief In Its Self-generated Pace And Rhythms.

I Once Heard A Woman Who Had Lost Her Dog Say That She Felt As Though A Color Were Suddenly Missing From Her World: The Dog Had Introduced To Her Field Of Vision Some Previously Unavailable Hue And Without A Dog, That Color Was Gone. That Seemed To Capture The Experience Of Loving A Dog With Eminent Simplicity. I'd Amend It Only Slightly And Say That If We Are Open To What They Have To Give, Dogs Can Introduce Us To Several Colors With Names Like Wildness, Nurturance, Trust And Joy.