The Old Chinese Proverb Springs To Mind

They Say The Path Of True Love Never Runs Smooth. Well, Luke And My True Love's Path Didn't Run At All, It Limped Along In New Boots That Were Chafing Its Heels. Blistered And Cut, Red And Raw, Every Hopping, Lopsided Step, A Little Slice Of Agony.

God! I Hated This Business Of Being Grown-up. I Hated Having To Make Decisions Where I Didn't Know What Was Behind The Door. I Wanted A World Where Heroes And Villains Were Clearly Labeled. Where Ominous Music Comes On-screen So You Can't Possibly Mistake Him. Where Someone Asks You To Choose Between Playing With The Beautiful Princess In The Fragrant Garden And Being Eaten By The Hideous Monster In The Foul-smelling Pit. Not Exactly A Difficult One, Now Is It? Not Something That You Would Agonize Over, Or That Would Make You Lose A Night's Sleep?

I Went Grey At 12, My Eyesight Went At 17. I've Been A Crock From Very Early On.

Nothing Sinister. Just Getting Exercise. Although Some Might Consider That Sinister.

He Seemed Wild And Dangerous And Carefree--well, He Would, Would'nt He? What Were Motorcycles And Black Leather Pants If Not The Uniform Of A Wild, Dangerous And Carefree Man?