I’m telling you something you don’t want to hear.
Even worse. You’ve no idea what I’m talking about.
The first thing I notice when I come back.
Shutters at every window. Anything to stop you looking in.
Imagine my frustration. Am I expecting too much of you?
The joys of abandonment followed by fear. I can’t get back.
I should say so. You’d better atone.
Actually, I’ve got to confess.
I keep books by day but prowl at night.
A weekend layabout.
If I controlled the tides.
Can’t we have a bit of order here?
What’re we talking about?
String your beads of thought.
I went over another wisely.
That’s your job. I pick the daisies. You chain them.
You don’t expect me to do everything, do you?