The Night Kept Coming On In And

People Don't Do Me Much Good.

I Wasn’t Lonely. I Experienced No Self-pity. I Was Just Caught Up In A Life In Which I Could find No Meaning.

I Don't Remember Going To Bed, But In The Morning, There I Was.

People Are Strange: They Are Constantly Angered By Trivial Things, But On A Major Matter Like Totally Wasting Their Lives, They Hardly Seem To Notice.

For Each Joan Of Arc There Is A Hitler Perched At The Other End Of The Teeter-totter.