He Was Still My Romantic Hero And

Astonishingly, At Some Point, A Sputtering Torch Was Thrust Into Her Hands. Alma Did Not See Who Gave It To Her. She Had Never Before Been Entrusted With Fire. The Torch Spit Sparks And Sent Chunks Of Flaming Tar Spinning Into The Air Behind Her As She Bolted Across The Cosmos-the Only Body In The Heavens Who Was Not Held To A Strict Elliptical Path. Nobody Stopped Her. She Was A Comet. She Did Not Know That She Was Not Flying.

I Am Burdened With What The Buddhists Call The 'monkey Mind' -- The Thoughts That Swing From Limb To Limb, Stopping Only To Scratch Themselves, Spit And Howl.

I'm An Enormous Product Of My Century, I'm A Product Of My Upbringing. I Was Not Aware Of The Fact That I Was Entering Marriage With The Highest Set Of Expectations That Humans Have Ever Brought To The Institution. It Was Really Good To Find That Out. It Doesn't Have To Be The Alpha And The Omega, The Beginning And The End, The Moon And The Stars - It Can Just Be The Moon. It's Enough That It Just Can Be What It Is.

Now Imagine A Life In Which Every Day A Person Is Presented With Not Two Or Even Three But Dozens Of Choices, And You Can Begin To Grasp Why The Modern World Has Become, Even With All Its Advantages, A Neurosis-generating Machine Of The Highest Order.

As Smoking Is To The Lungs, So Is Resentment To The Soul; Even One Puff Is Bad For You.