“I’m so suspicious of boys-slash-men. I just don’t like them or trust them.”

I am asking a boy to do a man’s job and love me.

I was dreaming about my grandfather. A very old man, at least as old as I am now, 91. I thought, when I was a boy, that he had been 91 all his life. Now I feel as if I have been 91 all my life.

The frailty of everything revealed at last. Old and troubling issues resolved into nothingness and night. The last instance of a thing takes the class with it. Turns out the light and is gone. Look around you. Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.

Men wear hearts on the sleeves that boys wipe their noses on.

I was never much of a reader when I was a boy. Books bored me. I liked action. But I spent a lot of time thinking about things. I’d imagine all kinds of situations and how I would handle them.

I am a bad boy. I don’t come across clearly to a lot of people, so I am bad for them.

A crowned queen was never treated with more reverence than I was by those whole-souled western boys, And for seventeen long years I was just their little sister, sharing both their news of joy and sorrow from home.

Boys are quite often whimsical. Whereas girls are modest by nature and know their responsibilities very well. Their weapons are service, sacrifice, and love, by which they conquer over the males.