So Many Means Of Self-destruction, So Little

When I Returned, Everything Was Different. Everything Was Calm, And I Felt Very Clean. Everything Was In Order. Everything Was As It Should Be. I Had A Secret. It Was A Guilty Secret, Certainly. But It Was My Secret. I Had Something To Hold On To. It Was Company. It Kept Me Calm. It Filled Me Up And Emptied Me Out.

After A Lifetime Of Silence, It Is Difficult Then To Speak.

I Wish I Could Find Words To Explain What This Kind Of Cold Is Like- The Cold That Has Somehow Gotten In Underneath Your Skin And Is Getting Colder And Colder Inside You.

My Students Know I Have A Life, They Know I've Written About My Life. They Know Some Detail, Probably More Than They Know About Their Physics Teacher, But I Would've Told Them Anyway!

All Of Us Carry Around Countless Bags Of Dusty Old Knickknacks Dated From Childhood: Collected Resentments, Long List Of Wounds Of Greater Or Lesser Significance, Glorified Memories, Absolute Certainties That Later Turn Out To Be Wrong. Humans Are Emotional Pack Rats. These Bags Define Us.