Losing Innocence. Remembering Heaven. That Was The

Spend As Much Time As You Can With Your Mouth Shut And Your Eyes And Ears Open.

Guilty She Might Be. But What Human Being Was Not? There Were Things In Her Past She Needn't Be Ashamed Of, Things To Be Proud Of; She Wouldn't Surrender So Meekly To A Condemning Judgment.

We Are All Dying Of Life.

The Pain Comes From More Than The Facts Of Circumstance, Or The Deeds Of Others. It Comes From Within. From Understanding What We Lost. It Comes From Knowing How Foolish We Were - Vain, Arrogant Children - When We Thought Ourselves Happy. It Comes From Knowing How Fragile And Doomed The Old Ways Were, Just When We Thought Them And Ourselves, Secure!. The Pain Comes From Knowing We Have Never Been Safe, And Therefore Will Never Be Safe Again. It Comes From Knowing We Can Never Be Children Again.

No Writer Should Minimize The Factor That Affects Everyone, But Is Beyond Control: Luck.