The Images, The Language, Of

Hatred Is Always A Sin, My Mother Told Me. Remember That. One Drop Of Hatred In Your Soul Will Spread And Discolor Everything Like A Drop Of Black Ink In White Milk. I Was Struck By That And Meant To Try It, But Knew I Shouldn’t Waste The Milk.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Gently Down The Stream. Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Life Is But A Dream.

Now I No Longer Believe That People's Secrets Are Defined And Communicable, Or Their Feelings Full-blown And Easy To Recognize.

Every Year, When You're A Child, You Become A Different Person.

Life Would Be Grand If It Weren't For The People.