Until The Day Of His Death No

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.

Life Has A Way Of Setting Things In Order And Leaving Them Be. Very Tidy, Is Life.

Each Of Us Has A Day .. When He Has To Accept, Finally, The Fact That He Is A Man.

However Tight I Shut My Eyes, There Will Always Be A Stray Dog Somewhere In The World Who'll Stop Me Being Happy.

We Have Found Other Terms Far Less Vague Than The Old Ones To Designate The Same Complaints. It's A Great Advance Linguistically.