On a small planet, where minute follows minute, day follows day, year follows year, where tradition marches on with a deafening, orderly beat -sometimes the order is disturbed by a dreamer, an artist, a scribbler - sometimes the beat is changed one person at a time.

I just think perfection and lasting through the ages is for Greek statues, not us mere humans.

There are all kinds of friends you make in life... But there's something different about someone who spreads their wings with you.

A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten . . .

Some things aren't meant to be known. Only believed.

I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)

Tell me who I am. (29)