I rarely use the internet for research, as I find the process cumbersome and detestable. The information gained is often untrustworthy and couched in execrable prose. It is unpleasant to sit in front of a twitching screen suffering assault by virus, power outage, sluggish searches, system crashes and the lack of direct human discourse.

A spinning coin, still balanced on its rim, may fall in either direction.

If a piece of knotted string can unleash the wind, and if a drowned man can awaken, then I believe a broken man can heal.

It is my feeling that a story is not finished until it is read, and that the reader finishes it through his or her life experience, prejudices, worldview and thoughts.

Anyway, there's something wrong with everybody and it's up to you to know what you can handle.

Everybody that went away suffered a broken heart. "I'm coming back some day," they all wrote. But never did. The old life was too small to fit anymore.

And it may be that love sometimes occurs without pain or misery.