You were my home, Mother. I had no home but you

We recived our colouring from the Norsemen,hairy savages who hacked their gods to pieces and hung the flesh from trees.We are the ones who sacked Rome.Fear only feeble old age and death in bed.Don't forget who you are.

her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth

Do you ever want to go home?' I asked Paul. He brushed an ash from my face. 'It's the century of the displaced person,' he said. 'You can never go home.

What was the point in such loneliness among people. At least if you were by yourself, you had a good reason to be lonely.

My loneliness tasted like pennies.

This was the life I was going to be living, everybody separated from everybody else, hanging on for a moment only to be washed away.