One Gets Started, And Then,

So Much Of Life [is] A Putting-off Of Unhappiness For Another Time. Nothing [is] Ever Lost By Delay.

Perhaps The Sexual Life Is The Great Test. If We Can Survive It With Charity To Those We Love And With Affection To Those We Have Betrayed, We Needn't Worry So Much About The Good And The Bad In Us. But Jealousy, Distrust, Cruelty, Revenge, Recrimination ... Then We Fail. The Wrong Is In That Failure Even If We Are The Victims And Not The Executioners. Virtue Is No Excuse.

There Are Times When A Lover Longs To Be Also A Father And A Brother: He Is Jealous Of The Years He Hasn't Shared.

I Wrote At The Start That This Was A Record Of Hate, And Walking There Beside Henry Towards The Evening Glass Of Beer, I Found The One Prayer That Seemed To Serve The Winter Mood: O God, You've Done Enough, You've Robbed Me Of Enough, I'm Too Tired And Old To Learn To Love, Leave Me Alone Forever.

Insecurity Twists Meanings And Poisons Trust. In A Closely Beleaguered City Every Sentry Is A Potential Traitor.