The More I Suffer, The More I

There's No Need To Talk About It, Because The Truth Of What One Says Lies In What One Does.

It Wasn't That I Forgot Hanna. But At A Certain Point The Memory Of Her Stopped Accompanying Me Wherever I Went. She Stayed Behind, The Way A City Stays Behind As A Train Pulls Out Of The Station. It's There, Somewhere Behind You, And You Could Go Back And Make Sure Of It. But Why Should You?

I Didn't Like The Way I Looked, The Way I Dressed And Moved, What I Achieved And What I Felt I Was Worth. But There Was So Much Energy In Me, Such Belief That One Day I'd Be Handsome And Clever And Superior And Admired, Such Anticipation When I Met New People And New Situations. Is That What Makes Me Sad? The Eagerness And Belief That Filled Me Then And Exacted A Pledge From Life That Life Could Never Fulfill? Sometimes I See The Same Eagerness And Belief In The Faces Of Children And Teenagers And The Sight Brings Back The Same Sadness I Feel In Remembering Myself.

When An Airplane's Engines Fail, It Is Not The End Of The Flight.

The Past Has To Be Remembered, So That It's Never Repeated.