We Are Unusual And Tragic And Alive.

I'm Interested In The Human Impact Of The Giant Foot Of Misplaced Government. After All, We Encounter It Every Day.

At That Moment I Was Sure. That I Belonged In My Skin. That My Organs Were Mine And My Eyes Were Mine And My Ears, Which Could Only Hear The Silence Of This Night And My Faint Breathing, Were Mine, And I Loved Them And What They Could Do.

She Needs A New Journal. The One She Has Is Problematic. To Get To The Present, She Needs To Page Through The Past, And When She Does, She Remembers Things, And Her New Journal Entries Become, For The Most Part, Reactions To The Days She Regrets, Wants To Correct, Rewrite.

The Key Thing Is Managed Awareness Of Your Role In The World And History. Think Too Much And You Know You Are Nothing. Think Just Enough And You Know You Are Small, But Important To Some. That's The Best You Can Do.

We Lose Weeks Like Buttons, Like Pencils.