My father said to remember your enemies as well as your friends, and don't trust either of them.
She taught me what's important, and what isn't. And I've never forgotten. And that's what mothers do, I say.
Two Arts degrees does not a life make.
I work hard in the orchard, not for the money anymore, but for something I can't explain. Something worth more than money.
He looks a hell of a lot like me, only a fair bit older.
After the war I was going to make up for lost time. But the time I spent away, it's still lost. No matter what I do, it stays lost.
I'm drinking away the exam results that don't take me anywhere.
I’m alone with the ghost of the swamp, somewhere near the weeping willows.
Men walk through tragedy, quietly, calm and precise on the outside, tearing themselves to shreds inside.
and I'm thinking as our bodies meet that I'll remember this forever, and i just hope it's for all the right reasons.
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