... I Have Read In Your Face,

There Either Is Or Is Not, That’s The Way Things Are. The Colour Of The Day. The Way It Felt To Be A Child. The Saltwater On Your Sunburnt Legs. Sometimes The Water Is Yellow, Sometimes It’s Red. But What Colour It May Be In Memory, Depends On The Day. I’m Not Going To Tell You The Story The Way It Happened. I’m Going To Tell It The Way I Remember It.

When They Took A Young Man Into Tellson's London House, They Hid Him Somewhere Till He Was Old. They Kept Him In A Dark Place, Like A Cheese, Until He Had The Full Tellson Flavour And Blue-mould Upon Him. Then Only Was He Permitted To Be Seen, Spectacularly Poring Over Large Books, And Casting His Breeches And Gaiters Into The General Weight Of The Establishment.

Accidentally Consumed Five Biscuits When I Wasn't Paying Attention. Those Biscuits Are Wily Fellows - They Leap In Like Sugary Ninjas

I Admire Machinery As Much Is Any Man, And Am As Thankful To It As Any Man Can Be For What It Does For Us. But It Will Never Be A Substitute For The Face Of A Man, With His Soul In It, Encouraging Another Man To Be Brave And True.

You Know What I Am Going To Say. I Love You. What Other Men May Mean When They Use That Expression, I Cannot Tell. What I Mean Is That I Am Under The Influence Of Some Tremendous Attraction Which I Have Resisted In Vain, And Which Overmasters Me. You Could Draw Me To Fire, You Could Draw Me To Water, You Could Draw Me To The Gallows, You Could Draw Me To Any Death, You Could Draw Me To Anything I Have Most Avoided, You Could Draw Me To Any Exposure And Disgrace. This And The Confusion Of My Thoughts, So That I Am Fit For Nothing, Is What I Mean By Your Being The Ruin Of Me.