Silence, Exile, Cunning And So On... It's

There Are No Amateurs In The World Of Children.

World Is Supposed To Mean Something That's Self-contained. But Nothing Is Self-contained.

It Occurred To Me That Eating Is The Only Form Of Professionalism Most People Ever Attain.

How Strange It Is. We Have These Deep Terrible Lingering Fears About Ourselves And The People We Love. Yet We Walk Around, Talk To People, Eat And Drink. We Manage To Function. The Feelings Are Deep And Real. Shouldn't They Paralyze Us? How Is It We Can Survive Them, At Least For A Little While? We Drive A Car, We Teach A Class. How Is It No One Sees How Deeply Afraid We Were, Last Night, This Morning? Is It Something We All Hide From Each Other, By Mutual Consent? Or Do We Share The Same Secret Without Knowing It? Wear The Same Disguise?

The Question Of Dying Becomes A Wise Reminder. It Cures Us Of Our Innocence Of The Future.