It is always worth itemizing happiness, there is so much of the other thing in a life, you had better put down the markers of happiness while you can.

A memory so clear, so wonderful, so beyond the bounds of possibility.I know it.My head is as clear as a glass.

I must admit there are 'memories' in my head that are curious even to me.

Unfathomable. Fathoms. I wonder is that the difficulty, that my memories and my imaginings are lying deeply in the same place? Or one on top of the other like layers of shells and sand in a piece of limestone, so that they have become the same element, and I cannot distinguish one from the other with any ease, unless it is from close, close looking?Which is why I am so afraid to speak to Dr. Grene, lest I give him only imaginings.Imaginings. A nice sort of a word for catastrophe and delusion.

Memory, I must suppose, if it is neglected becomes like a box room, or a lumber room in an old house, the contents jumbled about, maybe not only from neglect but also from too much haphazard searching in them, and things to boot thrown in that don't belong there.

But we only have one path across the mire of remembrance in general.