No time for poetry but exactly what is.

Ah Japhy you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can't fall off a mountain.

I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.

If moderation is a fault, then indifference is a crime.

It all ends in tears anyway.

I was surprised, as always, be how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.

But they need to worry and betray time with urgencies false and otherwise, purely anxious and whiny, their souls really won't be at peace unless they can latch to an established and proven worry and having once found it they assume facial expressions to fit and go with it, which is, you see, unhappiness, and all the time it all flies by them and they know it and that too worries them no end.