Why Do We Have Such A Finite

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.

Why Do We Have Such A Finite Capacity For Pleasure But An Infinite One For Pain?

I Am Prone To Despair. We Are All Born With A Particular Personality. I Get Afraid And Then I Don't Want To Leave The House.

The Old Chinese Proverb Springs To Mind - No Pain, No Gain.

For All Of My Life It Was The Size Of My Rear That Caused Me The Most Hand-wringing, But In This Nearly-50 Zone It Is My Stomach That Is The Problem. It Seems To Have Broken Free From Its Moorings And There Is No Knowing How Far It Will Roam.