My Mother Once Told Me I Was

We Lead Our Lives Like Water Flowing Down A Hill, Going More Or Less In One Direction Until We Splash Into Something That Forces Us To Find A New Course.

Finally The Homeless Eel Marked Its Territory, I Suppose, And The Doctor Lay Heavily Upon Me, Moist With Sweat.

I Stumbled Out Into The Courtyard To Try To Flee My Misery, But Of Course We Can Never Flee The Misery That Is Within Us.

No One Knows The Author Of Memoir So Well Like Himself.

A Woman Who Acts Like A Fool Is A Fool.