On Their Way To Freedom, Some People

Something Settiled Inside Me, Something Heavy And Hard. It Stayed There, And I Could Not Think Of One Thing To Make It Go Away. I Thought, So This Must Be Living, This Must Be The Beginning Of The Time People Later Refer To As 'years Ago, When I Was Young'.

The Space Between The Idea Of Something And Its Reality Is Always Wide And Deep And Dark. The Longer They Are Kept Apart—idea Of Thing, Reality Of Thing—the Wider The Width, The Deeper The Depth, The Thicker And Darker The Darkness.

He Must Have Smiled At Me, Though I Don't Really Know, But I Don't Like To Think That I Would Love Someone Who Hadn't First Smiled At Me.

I Was Given A Dictionary When I Was Seven, And I Read It Because I Had Nothing Else To Read. I Read It The Way You Read A Book.

Express Everything You Like. No Word Can Hurt You. None. No Idea Can Hurt You. Not Being Able To Express An Idea Or Word Will Hurt You More. Like A Bullet.