I know all about the facts of life, and I don't think much of them.
The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.
Death is too much to ask of the living.
Perhaps if I make myself write I shall find out what is wrong with me.
I suppose the best kind of spring morning is the best weather God has to offer.
And no bathroom on earth will make up for marrying a bearded man you hate.