Wherever you look there is so much loss and folly to contemplate.
Anything that makes it easier to understand, makes it a little easier to bear.
Some things I can never forget. I must not. Otherwise what do I have left?
The dead and not-yet dead, we are company all together.
I've grieved enough for his life cut short and for mine for running on for so long with so little in it. It's weakness now, but I suppose I am crying out of a general sense of loss. Maybe I am mourning for the human condition.
Is nothing in life ever straight and clear, the way children see it?