Spreuken over Leven

Me and Jai are pretty good friends. We'll be living with each other in a condo, making the best of it and getting ourselves ready for the season.

My lovely living Boy,My hope, my hap, my Love, my life, my joy.

It's not a depressing play; both of them do get on with the business of living. But it's not a fairy tale. It's for anyone who has loved and lost and everyone has.

In the temple of science are many mansions, and various indeed are they that dwell therein and the motives that have led them hither. Many take to science out of a joyful sense of superior intellectual power; science is their own special sport to which they look for vivid experience and the satisfaction of ambition; many others are to be found in the temple who have offered the products of their brains on this altar for purely utilitarian purposes. Were an angel of the Lord to come and drive all the people belonging to these two categories out of the temple, the assemblage would be seriously depleted, but there would still be some men, of both present and past times, left inside.

Well, birthdays are merely symbolic of how another year has gone by and how little we've grown. No matter how desperate we are that someday a better self will emerge, with each flicker of the candles on the cake, we know it's notto be, that for the rest of our sad, wretched pathetic lives, this is who we areto the bitter end. Inevitably, irrevocably; happy birthday? No such thing.