Death Is The Mother Of Beauty.

Through This Feeling Of Helplessness Suddenly Burst A Piercing Nostalgia For The Lost World Of Childhood. The Way It Came Right Up Against The Heart, That World, And Against The Face. No Indoors Or Outdoors, Only Everything Touching Us, And The Grown-ups Lumbering Past Overhead Like Constellations.

Sometimes What I Wouldn't Give To Have Us Sitting In A Bar Again At 9:00 A.m. Telling Lies To One Another, Far From God.

I'll Never Forget You. Your Husband Will Beat You With An Extension Cord And The Bus Will Pull Away Leaving You Standing There In Tears, But You Were My Mother.

All These Weirdos, And Me Getting A Little Better Every Day Right In The Midst Of Them. I Had Never Known, Never Even Imagined For A Heartbeat, That There Might Be A Place For People Like Us.

What Could Be Lonelier Than Trying To Communicate?