Bald-mouse

This does not last forever – this feeling you're having – I know exactly what you're feeling too; this whole misery thing, it passes. It does. If you want it to, it will.

It’s so easy to let the past make a mess of the present.

I looked out into the narrow street, this strange, crooked corner where we sat, which was brazen now with the sunlight and heavy with people–people I would never understand. I ached abruptly, intolerably, with a longing to go home; not to that hotel, in one of the alleys of Paris, where the concierge barred the way with my unpaid bill; but home, home across the ocean, to things and people I knew and understood; to those things, those places, those people which I would always, helplessly, and in whatever bitterness of spirit, love above all else. I had never realized such a sentiment in myself before, and it frightened me. I saw myself, sharply, as a wanderer, an adventurer, rocking though the world, unanchored.