Someone once asked me "If your life could be extended to 150 and you could start another career, would you?" And I said "No, thanks, I think I'll stick at this."

And now she was back in the world, not one she could make, but the one that had made her, and she felt herself shrinking under the early evening sky. She was weary of being outdoors, but she was not ready to go in. Was that really all there was in life, indoors or out? Wasn't there somewhere else for people to go?

Dearest Cecilia, You’d be forgiven for thinking me mad, the way I acted this afternoon. The truth is I feel rather light headed and foolish in your presence, Cee, and I don’t think I can blame the heat.

I was the basest of readers. All I wanted was my own world, and myself in it, given back to me in artful shapes and accessible form.

Daylight seemed then to be the physical manifestation of common sense.

Find you, love you, marry you, and live without shame.

Oblivion seemed the only reasonable option.