I Am 46, And Have

And Without Understanding, Could Each Properly Love The Other?

Fiction Is The Great Repository Of The Moral Sense. The Wicked Get Punished.

When You Make A Break For Freedom You Don't Necessarily Find Company On The Way.

That Sun, That Light Had Faded, And She Had Faded With Them. Now She Was As Grey As The Season Itself.

Always Let Them Think Of You As Singing And Dancing.