The dead and not-yet dead, we are company all together.
Anything that makes it easier to understand, makes it a little easier to bear.
Christmas works like glue, it keeps us all sticking together.
After a lifetime's independence– yes, selfish independence as my daughter would rightly claim – I am terrified of being reduced to childhood once more, to helplessness, to seas of confusion from which the cruel lucid intervals poke up like rock shoals.
Things don't matter, people do
Is nothing in life ever straight and clear, the way children see it?