Dying Is An Art, Like Everything Else.

There Was A Beautiful Time.

Antoine St. Exupery Once Mourned The Loss Of A Man And The Secret Treasures That He Held Inside Him. I Loved Exupery; I Will Read Him Again, And He Will Talk To Me, Not Being Dead, Or Gone. Is That Life After Death — Mind Living On Paper And Flesh Living In Offspring? Maybe. I Do Not Know.

I Have The One Person I Could Ever Love In This World. Now I Must Work To Be A Person Worthy Of That.

I Was My Own Woman. The Next Step Was To Find The Proper Sort Of Man.

Out Of The Ash I Rise With My Red Hair And I Eat Men Like Air.