“The melancholy comes over me, the dismal misery of not knowing where I am, or perhaps losing any sense of who I am, as if the mist is bringing about an evaporation of identity, all the certainties of the self… — Simon Armitage Copy Share Image
But who wants to be foretold the weather? It is bad enough when it comes, without our having the misery of knowing about it beforehand. — Jerome K. Jerome Copy Share Image
