A childhood is what anyone wants to remember of it. It leaves behind no fossils, except perhaps in fiction.
Why should men be allowed to strut under the privilege of their life adventures, wearing them like a breast full of medals, while women went all gray and silent beneath the weight of theirs?
He dares not concern himself with the future for fear of disturbing the present.
Here's to another year and let's hope it's above ground.
There are chapters in every life which are seldom read and certainly not aloud.
The scolding voice is her own, so abrasive and quick, yet so powerless to move her.