Good Days And Long Nights To Ya,

A Marriage Was Like A House Under Constant Construction, Each Year Seeing The Completion Of New Rooms. A First-year Marriage Was A Cottage; One That Had Gone On For Twenty-seven Years Was A Huge And Rambling Mansion. There Were Bound To Be Crannies And Storage Spaces, Most Of Them Dusty And Abandoned, Some Containing A Few Unpleasant Relics You Would Just As Soon You Hadn't Found. But That Was No Biggie. You Either Threw Those Relics Out Or Took Them To Goodwill.

Now Panic Beats And Flutters Inside My Skull Like A Flock Of Starlings Locked In An Attic.

The Poets Continually And Sometimes Wilfully Mistake Love. Love Is The Old Slaughterer.

When All Else Fails, Give Up And Go To The Library.

Hug And Kiss Whoever Helped Get You - Financially, Mentally, Morally, Emotionally - To This Day. Parents, Mentors, Friends, Teachers. If You're Too Uptight To Do That, At Least Do The Old Handshake Thing, But I Recommend A Hug And A Kiss. Don't Let The Sun Go Down Without Saying Thank You To Someone, And Without Admitting To Yourself That Absolutely No One Gets This Far Alone.