Go to the ant, thou sluggard, learn to live, and by her busy ways, reform thy own.

I feel helpless, hopeless, too low to call out, too weak to think. Impotent tears dribble down.

O I know they make war because they want peace; they hate so that they may live; and they destroy the present to make the world safe for the future. When have they not done and said they did it for that?

I am possessed by love and have no options.

I have learned to smoke because I need something to hold onto.

Once upon a time there was a woman who was just like all women. And she married a man who was just like all men. And they had some children who were just like all children. And it rained all day. The woman had to skewer the hole in the kitchen sink, when it was blocked up. The man went to the pub every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The other nights he mended his broken bicycle, did the pool coupons, and longed for money and power. The woman read love stories and longed for things to be different. The children fought and yelled and played and had scabs on their knees. In the end they all died.

But those with shattered souls find it very difficult to speak.