There’s no conscious thing on the face of the world that doesn’t know dread more intimately than its own heartbeat.

Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree!

Your flesh is killing your spirit. You have forsaken yourself.

How many human eyes...had snatched glimpses of their secret anatomies, down the passage of years?

Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any other story springs.

I have the normal complement of anxieties, neuroses, psychoses and whatever else - but I'm absolutely nothing special.

Perhaps a wiser eye than hers would be able to read tomorrow in tonight's stars, but where was the fun in that? It was better not to know. Better to be alive in the Here and the Now--in this bright, laughing moment--and let the Hours to come take care of themselves.