The Recounting Of A Life Is A

The Silence Is Perfect, And Yet A Torment.

Go For Long Walks, Indulge In Hot Baths, Question Your Assumptions, Be Kind To Yourself, Live For The Moment, Loosen Up, Scream, Curse The World, Count Your Blessings, Just Let Go, Just Be.

A Woman's Life Isn't Worth A Plateful Of Cabbage If She Hasn't Felt Life Stir Under Her Heart. Taking A Little One To Nurse, Watching Him Grow To Manhood, That's What Love Is.

The Scolding Voice Is Her Own, So Abrasive And Quick, Yet So Powerless To Move Her.

Bookish People, Who Are Often Maladroit People, Persist In Thinking They Can Master Any Subtlety So Long As It's Been Shaped Into Acceptable Expository Prose.