The End Of Secrecy Would Be The

I'm Going Mad, I Told Myself. Let Me Not Be Mad.

Shall There Be Womanly Times? Or Shall We Die?

This Is The Pain-pleasure Of Having Newly Adult Children; They're Innocent And Ruthless In Forgetting Their Sweet Old Dependence.

I’ll Wait For You. Come Back. The Words Were Not Meaningless, But They Didn’t Touch Him Now. It Was Clear Enough - One Person Waiting For Another Was Like An Arithmetical Sum, And Just As Empty Of Emotion. Waiting. Simply One Person Doing Nothing, Over Time, While Another Approached. Waiting Was A Heavy Word.

It's The Essence Of A Degenerating Mind Periodically, To Lose All Sense Of Continuous Self, And Therefore Any Regard For What Others Think Of Your Lack Of Continuity.