After trying so hard to stay alive, why should I want to return to the land of the dead?
In truth, I had been so close so many times that I was getting tired of it all.
The principle theme in my life had been death, so what point was there in living?
I had not yet begun to think of using a gun, or of where to aim it.
I simply thought of dying as though I were longing for home.
As I thought of this dying I began to cry.
"Wonderful! If you can cry you can live!"
I heard the happiness in her voice as my mother said this.
She could not hear my words but she could see my tears.
"If you can cry you can live."
How richly philosophical, how true. Her inadvertent words have passed like a thread through all that I have written. She understood, I felt I should write for this woman alone.
