By Writing I Can Live In Ways

Time Is The Water In Which We Live, And We Breathe It Like Fish. ... Time Pours Into Us And Then Pours Out Again. In Between The Two Pourings We Live Our Destiny.

Old Love, Middle Love, The Kind Of Love That Knows Itself And Knows That Nothing Lasts, Is A Desperate Shared Wildness.

Love Won't Be Tampered With, Love Won't Go Away. Push It To One Side And It Creeps To The Other.

We Passed Over In A Sweep Of Sorrow That Would Persist Into Our Small Forever. We Just Keep Going.

I Might Not Be Able To Use The Word "hope," But I Could Certainly Use The Word "optimism." I'm Very Optimistic. I Don't Feel That It Helps To Be Pessimistic. At Some Point In My Life I Made A Conscious Decision That I Would Try To Be Optimistic - Not Blind To Anything At All - But To Always Hear The Way That Had The Best Chance For Happiness.