After All, We Are Nothing More Or

I Felt Like A Racehorse In A World Without Racetracks.

England Offers New Comforts. I Could Write A Novel There.

The Hardest Thing, I Think, Is To Live Richly In The Present, Without Letting It Be Tainted & Spoiled Out Of Fear For The Future Or Regret For A Badly-managed Past.

We Stayed At Home To Write, To Consolidate Our Outstretched Selves.

I Get Into A Rut, Unable To Yank My Mind Out Of It.