I Know Because I Read. Might I

Evie Wanted To Cry. From Fear. From Exhaustion, Yes. But Mostly From The Cruel Uselessness, The Damned Stupid Arbitrariness Of It All.

Did They Find Something Wanting In You, Gemma, At The Party? You Didn’t Speak Too Freely Or Behave…strangely?” I Grew Claws And Bayed At The Moon. I Confessed That I Eat The Hearts Of Small Children. I Told Them I Like The French.

Dude, This Is A Stoner Conversation And We're Not Even High

We Are English, And I Expect You To Behave As Such. No More Crying.

Can We Really Conquer Chaos So Easily? If That Were So, I Should Be Able To Prune The Pandemonium Of My Own Soul Into Something Neat And Tidy Rather Than This Maze Of Wants And Needs And Misgivings That Has Me Forever Feeling As If I Cannot Fit Into The Landscape Of Things.