I’m Not Sure Which Is

You're Dead, Cordelia.' No I'm Not. 'yes You Are. You're Dead. Lie Down.

Karen Wasn't Hard, She Was Soft, Too Soft. A Soft Touch. Her Hair Was Soft, Her Smile Was Soft, Her Voice Was Soft. She Was So Soft There Was No Resistance. Hard Things Sank Into Her, They Went Right Through Her, And If She Made A Real Effort, Out The Other Side. Then She Didn't Have To See Them Or Hear Them, Or Even Touch Them.

I Have Long Since Decided If You Wait For The Perfect Time To Write, You'll Never Write. There Is No Time That Isn't Flawed Somehow.

They Will Not Let You Have Peace, They Don't Want You To Have Anything They Don't Have Themselves.

I Could End This With A Moral, As If This Were A Fable About Animals, Though No Fables Are Really About Animals.