Women Want Love To Be A Novel,

We Know One Another. This Is The Present. There Is No Past And No Future. Here I Am Washing My Hands, And The Cracked Mirror Shows Me To Myself, Suspended As It Were, In Time; This Is Me, This Moment Will Not Pass.

I Suppose Sooner Or Later In The Life Of Everyone Comes A Moment Of Trial. We All Of Us Have Our Particular Devil Who Rides Us And Torments Us, And We Must Give Battle In The End.

The Peace Of Manderley. The Quietude And The Grace. Whoever Lived Within Its Walls, Whatever Trouble There Was And Strife, However Much Uneasiness And Pain, No Matter What Tears Were Shed, What Sorrows Borne, The Peace Of Manderley Could Not Be Broken Or The Loveliness Destroyed.

Those Dripping Crumpets, I Can See Them Now. Tiny Crisp Wedges Of Toast, And Piping-hot, Flaky Scones. Sandwiches Of Unknown Nature, Mysteriously Flavoured And Quite Delectable, And That Very Special Gingerbread. Angel Cake, That Melted In The Mouth, And His Rather Stodgier Companion, Bursting With Peel And Raisins. There Was Enough Food There To Keep A Starving Family For A Week.

A Bad Workman Blames His Tools.