All Myth Is An Enriched Pattern, A

Small, Red, And Upright He Waited, Gripping His New Bookbag Tight In One Hand And Touching A Lucky Penny Inside His Coat Pocket With The Other, While The First Snows Of Winter Floated Down On His Eyelashes And Covered The Branches Around Him And Silenced All Trace Of The World.

When I Desire You A Part Of Me Is Gone.

I Never Really Got Over The Fun Of Making Letters.

If Your Way Of Life Is Writing, Then Everything That Happens Becomes A Sentence.

The Greek Language Seems Different Than Other Languages. I'm Not The Only Person To Think This. Usually, I Come Up With Some Kind Of Dopey Metaphor For Why It's Different. But It Seems, Somehow, More Original, More Like Being In The Morning Of Language.