You Couldn't Be Perfect Enough To Keep

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged.

But The Past Cannot Be Changed, And We Carry Our Choices With Us, Forward, Into The Unknown. We Can Only Move On.

I Thought Research Would Be More Glamorous, Somehow. I'd Give The Librarian A Secret Code Word And He'd Give Me The One Book I Needed And Whisper The Necessary Page Numbers. Like A Speakeasy. With Books.

Evie Hadn’t Always Felt That Way. For A Year After James Had Died, She’d Cupped His Half-dollar Pendant Between Her Pressed Palms And Prayed Fervently For A Miracle, For A Telegram That Would Say Good News! It Was A Terrible Mistake, And Private James Xavier O’neill Has Been Found, Safe, In A Farmhouse In France. But No Such Telegram Ever Arrived, And Whatever Possible Faith Might Have Bloomed In Evie Withered And Died. Now She Saw It As Just Another Advertisement For A Life That Belonged To A Previous Generation And Held No Meaning For Hers.

Just Once I’d Like To Meet A Fella Who Isn’t A Phony. Somebody Who Doesn’t Wanna Buy Me A Fur So He Can Show Me Off To His Boys.