The Weak Are Cruel. The

My Mother's Blood That Would Last Forever After. The Blood Of My Brother, My Grandfather, My Father.

That Is How You Know You've Left Childhood Behind-when You Wish For Time To Go Backward.

Anyway, The Sort Of Love That Will Not Wait Is Probably Best To Pass By

My Grandmother Told Me Once That When You Lose Somebody You Think You've Lost The Whole World As Well, But That's Not The Way Things Turn Out In The End. Eventually, You Pick Yourself Up And Look Out The Window, And Once You Do You See Everything That Was There Before The World Ended Is Out There Still. There Are The Same Apple Trees And The Same Songbirds, And Over Our Heads, The Very Same Sky That Shines Like Heaven, So Far Above Us We Can Never Hope To Reach Such Heights.

Margaret Thought Of All She Knew For Certain, That Day Would Always Follow Night That Love Was Never Wasted Nor Was It Lost.