We Are Torn Between Nostalgia For The

The Closest Thing To Being Cared For Is To Care For Someone Else.

There's Nothing That Makes You So Aware Of The Improvisation Of Human Existence As A Song Unfinished. Or An Old Address Book.

I Am Not Meant To Be Alone And Without You Who Understands.

But The Hearts Of Small Children Are Delicate Organs. A Cruel Beginning In This World Can Twist Them Into Curious Shapes. The Heart Of A Hurt Child Can Shrink So That Forever Afterward It Is Hard And Pitted As The Seed Of A Peach. Or Again, The Heart Of Such A Child May Fester And Swell Until It Is A Misery To Carry Within The Body, Easily Chafed And Hurt By The Most Ordinary Things.

Maybe When People Longed For A Thing That Bad The Longing Made Them Trust In Anything That Might Give It To Them.