In Other Words, It's One

Loving People, And Allowing Yourself To Be Loved, Was Only Worth The Risk If The Odds Were In Your Favor, But They Quite Clearly Weren't. There Were About Seventy-nine Squillion People In The World, And If You Were Very Lucky, You Would End Up Being Loved By Fifteen Or Twenty Of Them. So How Smart Did You Have To Be To Work Out That It Just Wasn't Worth The Risk?

You Can Wait Forever For The Muse To Sit On Your Shoulder, But Most Of The Time You Know What Has To Be Done And Inspiration Is Not Going To Help You.

Hard Is Trying To Rebuild Yourself, Piece By Piece, With No Instruction Book, And No Clue As To Where All The Important Bits Are Supposed To Go.

You Don't Ask People With Knives In Their Stomachs What Would Make Them Happy; Happiness Is No Longer The Point. It's All About Survival; It's All About Whether You Pull The Knife Out And Bleed To Death Or Keep It In.

He Would Read Up On Parenting, If He Thought It Would Help, But His Errors Always Seemed Too Basic For The Manuals. "always Tell Your Kids They Have Siblings..." He Couldn't Imagine Any Child-raising Guru Taking The Trouble To Write That Down. Maybe There Was A Gap In The Market.