I Will Never, Ever Drink Whiskey Again.

Everyone Seems To Want More Form Me. I Am A Thoroughly Disappointing Girl Around. I Shall Wear A Scarlet 'd' Upon My Bosom For All To See So That They Will Know Not To Raise Their Expectations.

All Morning, Spence Has Been A Well-oiled Machine Of Activity. Everyone Doing Her Bit, Quietly And Efficiently. It's Strange How Deliberate People Are After A Death. All The Indecision Suddenly Vanishes Into Clear, Defined Moments--changing The Linens, Choosing A Dress Or A Hymn, The Washing Up, The Muttering Of Prayers. All The Small, Simple, Conscious Acts Of Living A Sudden Defense Against The Dying We Do Every Day.

There Are Always Rebels And Radicals, I Suppose,' Mccleethy Allows. 'those Who Live On The Fringes Of Society. But What Do They Contribute To The Society Itself? They Reap Its Rewards Without Experiencing Its Costs. No. I Submit That Loyal, Hardworking Citizens Who Push Aside Their Own Selfish Desires For The Good Of The Whole Are The Backbone Of The World. What If We All Decided To Run Off And Live Freely Without Thought Or Care For Society's Rules? Our Civilization Would Crumble. There Is A Joy In Duty And A Security In Knowing One's Place...it Is The Only Way.

He Took Comfort In The Neon Signs, The Wild Strands Of Jazz Creeping Out Of Clubs Whenever Happy Swells Of People Pushed Through The Doors In Their Finery.

Libraries Are The Torch Of The World, Illuminating The Path When It Feels Too Dark To See. We Mustn't Allow That Torch To Be Extinguished.