It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.
Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.
Butterflies. They go where they please and they please where they go. The former statement aptly summarises the contents of this blog : they will not revolve around one common topic; they shall be just as the title announces, the butterfly thoughts of a young woman. Also, I am not writing for you readers, but rather for myself - I find that this is much more economical than pen and paper ! If you, however, end up reading my posts, I hope they will please where they go.