To Be Well In Your

I Was Carrying Two Cargoes. Yes, One Of Them Was Horror, But The Other One Was Hope.

There Was No Quick Grief For Andrew Because He Had Been So Slowly Lost. First From My Heart, Then From My Mind, And Only Finally From My Life.

We Were Exiles From Reality That Summer. We Were Refugees From Ourselves.

If Your Face Is Swollen From The Severe Beatings Of Life, Smile And Pretend To Be A Fat Man.

Sad Words Are Just Another Beauty. A Sad Story Means, This Storyteller Is Alive. The Next Thing You Know Something Fine Will Happen To Her, Something Marvelous, And Then She Will Turn Around And Smile.