Every You, Every Me. Fractals. Fractures.

I Think One Of The Highest Compliments You Can Give A Person Is That When You Are Talking To Him, You Are Not Thinking About The Fact That You Are Talking To Him. That Is, Your Thoughts And Words All Exist On A Single, Engaged Level. You Are Being Yourself Because You Aren't Bothering To Think About Who You Should Be. It Is Like When You Talk In A Dream.

It Scares Me How Hard It Is To Remember Life Before You. I Can't Even Make The Comparisons Anymore, Because My Memories Of That Time Have All The Depth Of A Photograph. It Seems Foolish To Play Games Of Better And Worse. It's Simply A Matter Of Is And Is No Longer.

Every Time You Love Someone, You Put Not Just Your Faith In Them, But Your Faith In Everything To The Test.

The Mistake Is Thinking That There Can Be An Antidote To The Uncertainty.

His Books Are Kept On Freestanding Shelves Hung At Different Angles On A Sea-green Wall. They Defy Gravity, As Good Books Should.