One realized all sorts of things. The value of an illusion, for instance, and that the shadow can be more important than the substance. All sorts of things.

I have tried," I said, "but he does not believe me. It is too late for that now" (it is always too late for truth, I thought).

Today I must be very careful, today I have left my armor at home.

I would never be part of anything. I would never really belong anywhere, and I knew it, and all my life would be the same, trying to belong, and failing. Always something would go wrong. I am a stranger and I always will be, and after all I didn’t really care.

A room? A nice room? A beautiful room? A beautiful room with bath? Swing high, swing low, swing to and fro...This happened and that happened... And then the days came and I was alone.

There is always the other side, always.

before I could read, almost a baby, I imagined that God, this strange thing or person I heard about, was a book.