The last time you were happy about nothing; the first time you were afraid about nothing. Which came first?

After all this, what happened? What happened was that, as soon as I had the slightest chance of a place to hide in, I crept into it and hid. Well, sometimes it's a fine day isn't it? Sometimes the skies are blue. Sometimes the air is light, easy to breathe. And there is always tomorrow.

I found when I was a child that if I put the hurt into words, it would go.

I think that the desire to be cruel and to hurt (with words because any other way might be dangerous to ourself) is part of human nature. Parties are battles (most parties), a conversation is a duel (often). Everybody's trying to hurt first, to get in the dig that will make him or her feel superior, feel triumph.

Next week, or next month, or next year I will kill myself. But I might as well last out my month's rent, which has been paid up.

We can't all be happy, we can't all be rich, we can't all be lucky - and it would be so much less fun if we were... There must be the dark background to show up the bright colours.

It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?