A Certain Slightly Cruel Disregard For The

It's The World, You Live In It, Even If Some Boy Has Made A Fool Of You.

What A Thrill, What A Shock, To Be Alive On A Morning In June, Prosperous, Almost Scandalously Privileged, With A Simple Errand To Run.

I Don't Know If I Can Face This. You Know. The Party And The Ceremony, And Then The Hour After That, And The Hour After That." "you Don't Have To Go To The Party. You Don't Have To Go To The Ceremony. You Don't Have To Do Anything At All." "but There Are Still The Hours, Aren't There? One And Then Another, And You Get Through That One And Then, My God, There's Another. I'm So Sick.

This Is What You Do. You Make A Future For Yourself Out Of The Raw Material At Hand.

She'd Never Imagined It Like This-when She Thought Of Someone (a Woman Like Herself)losing Her Mind, She'd Imagined Shrieks And Wails, Hallucinations; But At That Moment It Had Seemed Clear That There Was Another Way, Far Quieter; A Way That Was Numb And Hopeless, Flat, So Much So That An Emotion As Strong As Sorrow Would Have Been A Relief.