We Are All Ghosts Of

The Road To Manderley Lay Ahead. There Was No Moon. The Sky Above Our Heads Was Inky Black. But The Sky On The Horizon Was Not Dark At All. It Was Shot With Crimson, Like A Splash Of Blood. And The Ashes Blew Towards Us With The Salt Wind From The Sea.

[referring To The Birds:] Nat Listened To The Tearing Sound Of Splintering Wood, And Wondered How Many Million Years Of Memory Were Stored In Those Little Brains, Behind The Stabbing Beaks, The Piercing Eyes, Now Giving Them This Instinct To Destroy Mankind With All The Deft Precision Of Machines.

This House Sheltered Us, We Spoke, We Loved Within Those Walls. That Was Yesterday. To-day We Pass On, We See It No More, And We Are Different, Changed In Some Infinitesimal Way. We Can Never Be Quite The Same Again.

We Can Never Go Back Again, That Much Is Certain. The Past Is Still Close To Us. The Things We Have Tried To Forget And Put Behind Us Would Stir Again, And That Sense Of Fear, Of Furtive Unrest, Struggling At Length To Blind Unreasoning Panic - Now Mercifully Stilled, Thank God - Might In Some Manner Unforeseen Become A Living Companion As It Had Before.

Happiness Happens When You Fit With Your Life, When You Fit So Harmoniously That Whatsoever You Are Doing Is Your Joy. Happiness Is Not A Possession To Be Prized, It Is A Quality Of Thought, A State Of Mind.