I, A Late Riser, Fantasise

My Daughter Is A Fantastic Travelling Companion - She's Totally Organised, Whereas I'm Hopeless.

The Facts Of His Existence Are Plain. I Know That He Will Never Silence Those Unspeakable Voices. He Heard How People Killed, And How They Died And Their Voices Infected Him, Coursed Through His Body, Poisoned Him. He Didn't Know How To Turn Off The Noise, Or Turn The Hate Back Out Onto The World Like The Rest Of Us. He Turned It On Himself. You Could See That From The Scars On Him.

I, A Late Riser, Fantasise About Getting Up Every Morning At 5 A.m. To Fetch The Horses In From The Fields.

If You Haven't Been In A War And Are Wondering How Long It Takes To Get Used To Losing Everything You Think You Need Or Love, I Can Tell You The Answer Is No Time At All.

Perhaps The Way To Succeed Is To Think Of Life On Earth As A Colossal Joke, A Creation Of Such Immense Stupidity That The Only Way To Live Is To Laugh Until You Think Your Heart Will Break.