And Feeling Clever, I've Always Thought, Is

When Its Gone, You'll Know What A Gift Love Was. You'll Suffer Like This. So Go Back And Fight To Keep It.

Is There Any Meaning In My Life That The Inevitable Death Awaiting Me Does Not Destory?

No One Knew About The Squirrel’s Skull Beneath Briony Bed, But No One Wanted To Know.

Wasn't Writing A Kind Of Soaring, An Achievable Form Of Flight, Of Fancy, Of The Imagination?

Perhaps The Greatest Reading Pleasure Has An Element Of Self-annihilation. To Be So Engrossed That You Barely Know You Exist.