And The Words We Find Are Always

Connubial Because With Alarming Accuracy She’d Been Identifying Patterns I Was Unaware Of—this Tic, That Tendency, Like The Way I've Mastered The Language Of Intimacy In Order To Conceal How I Felt— I Knew I Was In Danger Of Being Terribly Understood.

I’ve Had It With All Stingy-hearted Sons Of Bitches. A Heart Is To Be Spent.

There Are Always The Simple Events Of Your Life That You Might Try To Convert Into Legend.

Oh Abstractions Are Just Abstract Until They Have An Ache In Them.

A True Inner World Is Often Revealed By Style And Sensibility As Much As By What Appears To Be Confession.