There Had To Be Dark And Muddy

She Had Become Accustomed To Being Lonely. She Was Used To Walking Alone And To Being Considered 'different.' She Did Not Suffer Too Much.

A Lie Was Something You Told Because You Were Mean Or A Coward. A Story Was Something You Made Up Out Of Something That Might Have Happened. Only You Didn't Tell It Like It Was, You Told It Like You Thought It Should Have Been.

Did You Ever See So Many Pee-wee Hats, Carl?" "they're Beanies." "they Call Them Pee-wees In Brooklyn." "but I'm Not In Brooklyn." "but You're Still A Brooklynite." "i Wouldn't Want That To Get Around, Annie." "you Don't Mean That, Carl." "ah, We Might As Well Call Them Beanies, Annie." "why?" "when In Rome Do As The Romans Do." "do They Call Them Beanies In Rome?" She Asked Artlessly. "this Is The Silliest Conversation.

Look At Everything As Though You Are Seeing It For The First Time.

Look At Everything Always As Though You Were Seeing It Either For The First Or Last Time: Thus Is Your Time On Earth Filled With Glory.