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I am not meant to be alone and without you who understands.
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It was like she was cheated. Only nobody had cheated her. So there was nobody to take it out on. However, just the same she had that feeling. Cheated.
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But all the time-no matter what she was doing-there was music.
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There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall.
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Coming down was the hardest part of any climbing.
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The memories of childhood have a strange shuttling quality, and areas of darkness ring the spaces of light. The memories of childhood are like clear candles in an acre of night, illuminating fixed scenes from surrounding darkness.
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Sunday afternoons are the longest afternoons of all.
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Writing, for me, is a search for God.