Hurts of childhood live on; in one form or other they are there to the end.
They made small effort to cover their raw souls with the mantle of commonplace words.
Resentment opens no door and breeds no courage.
As I grow older, I think friendship between women is a thing to cherish.
It is through suppression that hells are formed in us.
But mayn't desertion be a brave thing? A fine thing? To desert a thing we've gone beyond - to have the courage to desert it and walk right off from the dead thing to the live thing - ?