Writing Is A Dying Form. One Reads

It Is A Lonely Feeling When Someone You Care About Becomes A Stranger.

They Say That When You’re Really In Love, The World Becomes Gossamer And Gorgeous, But In My Experience The World Gets Grimy, And The Love Object Is In Stark Relief From The Surroundings. This Is Love, A Pretty Thing On An Ugly Street.

It Seemed To Me That Every Adult Did Something Terrible Sooner Or Later. And Every Child, I Thought, Sooner Or Later Becomes An Adult.

Just Because Something Is Traditional Is No Reason To Do It, Of Course.

Love Is Candy From A Stranger, But It's Candy You've Had Before And It Probably Won't Kill You.