We are more tied to our faults than to our virtues.
My mother's mild-eyed sadness looks at me from the eyes of those I love.
We are prepared for insults, but compliments leave us baffled.
More are weakened than strengthened by their troubles.
I am forbidden sugar, fat, and alcohol. So hooray, I guess, for oatmeal, lemon juice, and chicken soup.
The flesh of past lovers looks both familiar and strange.