It will be a beautiful family talk, mean and worried and full of sorrow and spite and excitement.
As regards plot I find real life no help at all. Real life seems to have no plots. And as I think a plot desirable and almost necessary, I have this extra grudge against life.
My youth is escaping without giving me anything it owes me.
Truth is so impossible. Something has to be done for it.
We are always children to our mothers.
Our desires have a way of getting bigger with our incomes.