We're All Unique, Just Never In The

It's A Terrible Thing, Isn't It, The Way We Throw People Away?

His Words Had Tossed The Book That Was Her Life Into The Air And The Pages Had Been Blown Into Disarray, Could Never Be Put Back Together To Tell The Same Story.

Round And Round The Questions Flew, Until Finally I Found Myself Standing At The Open Door Of A Bookshop. It’s Natural In Times Of Great Perplexity, I Think, To Seek Out The Familiar, And The High Shelves And Long Rows Of Neatly Lined-up Spines Were Immensely Reassuring. Amid The Smell Of Ink And Binding, The Dusty Motes In Beams Of Strained Sunlight, The Embrace Of Warm, Tranquil Air, I Felt That I Could Breathe More Easily.

I'm Good With Words, But Not The Spoken Kind; I've Often Thought What A Marvelous Thing It Would Be If I Could Only Conduct Relationships On Paper.

... For Home Is A Magnet That Lures Back Even Its Most Abstracted Children.