Dear Lord, Please Show Me

Men Go Into Marriage With Virtually No Expectations Whatsoever. Ten Years Later, The Men Are Delightfully Surprised To Find Out That It's Actually Kind Of Nice, And The Women Have Sort Of Had To Take A Nose Dive From What They Thought It Was Going To Be.

As Far As We Know, We Are The Only Species On The Planet Who Have Been Given The Gift-or Curse, Perhaps-of Awareness About Our Own Mortality. Everything Here Eventually Dies; We're Just The Lucky Ones Who Get To Think About This Fact Every Day.

Equally Disquieting Are The Times When We Do Make A Choice, Only To Later Feel As Though We Have Murdered Some Other Aspect Of Our Being By Settling On One Single Concrete Decision.

If I Am To Truly Become An Autonomous Woman, Then I Must Take Over That Role Of Being My Own Guardian.

There's A Wonderful Old Italian Joke About A Poor Man Who Goes To Church Every Day And Prays Before The Statue Of A Great Saint,'dear Saint-please, Please, Please...give Me The Grace To Win The Lottery.' This Lament Goes On For Months. Finally The Exasperated Statue Come To Life, Looks Down At The Begging Man And Says In Weary Disgust,'my Son-please, Please, Please...buy A Ticket.