Something I Am Now Convinced Of, After

This Is The Forked Tongue Of Grief Again. It Whispers In One Ear: Return To What You Once Loved Best, And In The Other Ear It Whispers, Move On.

What Is An Adventure? That Depends On Where You Are Starting From. Little Girls In Your Country, They Hide In The Gap Between The Washing Machine And The Refrigerator And They Make Believe They Are In The Jungle, With Green Snakes And Monkeys All Around Them. Me And My Sister, We Used To Hide In A Gap In The Jungle, With Green Snakes And Monkeys All Around Us, And Make Believe That We Had A Washing Machine And A Refrigerator. You Live In A World Of Machines And You Dream Off Things With Beating Hearts. We Dream Of Machines, Because We See Where Beating Hearts Have Left Us.

I Planned How I Would Kill Myself In The Time Of Churchill (stand Under Bombs), Victoria (throw Myself Under A Horse), And Henry The Eighth (marry Henry The Eighth)- Little Bee

Even For A Girl Like Me, Then, There Comes A Day When She Can Stop Surviving And Start Living. To Survive, You Have To Look Good Or Talk Good. But To End Your Story Well-- Here Is The Truth-- You Have To Talk Yourself Out Of It.

I Think All Of Us Are Intrigued To Imagine What We As Individuals Would Become, If We Were Ever Tested As Hard As That Golden Generation Was.