…* to learn that money makes life smooth in some ways, and to feel how tight and threadbare life is if you have too little. * to despise money, which is a farce, mere paper, and to hate what you have to do for it, and yet to long to have it in order to be free from slaving for it. * to yearn toward art, music, ballet and good books, and get them only in tantalizing snatches.

A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion; an insight like the flight of birds.

After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.

I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have.

Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B. Once you were beautiful.