We're Not Meant For Happiness, You And

I Could Fight With The Living But I Could Not Fight The Dead. If There Was Some Woman In London That Maxim Loved, Someone He Wrote To, Visited, Dined With, Slept With, I Could Fight Her. We Would Stand On Common Ground. I Should Not Be Afraid. Anger And Jealousy Were Things That Could Be Conquered. One Day The Woman Would Grow Old Or Tired Or Different, And Maxim Would Not Love Her Anymore. But Rebecca Would Never Grow Old. Rebecca Would Always Be The Same. And She And I Could Not Fight. She Was To Strong For Me.

Here Was The Freedom I Desired, Long Sought-for, Not Yet Known Freedom To Write, To Walk, To Wander, Freedom To Climb Hills, To Pull A Boat, To Be Alone.

From The Very First, I Knew That It Would Be So...i Smiled To Myself, And Said, "that -- And None Other.

Happiness Is Not A Possession To Be Prized, It Is A Quality Of Thought, A State Of Mind.

Look On Each Day That Comes As A Challenge, As A Test Of Courage. The Pain Will Come In Waves, Some Days Worse Than Others, For No Apparent Reason. Accept The Pain. Little By Little, You Will Find New Strength, New Vision, Born Of The Very Pain And Loneliness Which Seem, At First, Impossible To Master.