And I Had By Now Become Used

The Cure For Anything Is Salt Water: Sweat, Tears Or The Sea.

But By The Time That I Had Nothing Left, I Myself Was The Lightest Thing Of All For Fate To Get Rid Of.

It Is A Good Thing To Be A Great Sinner. Or Should Human Beings Allow Christ To Have Died On The Cross For The Sake Of Our Petty Lies And Our Paltry Whorings

Up In This Air You Breathed Easily, Drawing In A Vital Assurance And Lightness Of Heart. In The Highlands You Woke Up In The Morning And Thought: Here I Am, Where I Ought To Be.

Within Our Whole Universe The Story Only Has The Authority To Answer That Cry Of Heart Of Its Characters, That One Cry Of Heart Of Each Of Them: "who Am I?"