You Must Do What You Enjoy.

It Would Be Inappropiate, Undignified, At 38, To Conduct Friendships Or Love Affairs With The Ardour Or Intensity Of A 22 Year Old. Falling In Love Like That? Writing Poetry? Crying At Pop Songs? Dragging People Into Photobooths? Taking A Whole Day To Make A Compilation Tape? Asking People If They Wanted To Share Your Bed, Just For Company? If You Quoted Bob Dylan Or Ts Eliot Or, God Forbid, Brecht At Someone These Days They Would Smile Politely And Step Quietly Backwards, And Who Would Blame Them? Ridiculous, At 38, To Expect A Song Or Book Or Film To Change Your Life.

Dexter, I Love You So Much. So, So Much, And I Probably Always Will. I Just Don't Like You Anymore. I'm Sorry.

Do You Miss Her?' 'who? Emma? Of Course. Every Day. She Was My Best Friend.

The Problem With All These Fiercely Individualistic Girls Was That They Were All Exactly The Same.

From An Evolutionary Point Of View, Most Emotions - Fear, Desire, Anger - Serve Some Practical Purpose, But Nostalgia Is A Useless, Futile Thing Because It Is A Longing For Something That Is Permanently Lost . . . .