For All The Insularity Of The Old

Noticing And Remembering Everything Would Trap Bright Scenes To Light And Fill The Blank And Darkening Past Which Was Already Piling Up Behind Me. The Growing Size Of That Blank And Ever-darkening Past Frightened Me; It Loomed Beside Me Like A Hole In The Air And Battened On Scraps Of My Life I Failed To Claim. If One Day I Forgot To Notice My Life, And Be Damned Grateful For It, The Blank Cave Would Suck Me Up Entire.

These Are Our Few Live Seasons. Let Us Live Them As Purely As We Can, In The Present.

Nothing Moves A Woman So Deeply As The Boyhood Of The Man She Loves.

We Are Here On The Planet Only Once, And Might As Well Get A Feel For The Place.

Why Do We People In Churches Seem Like Cheerful, Brainless Tourists On A Packaged Tour Of The Absolute?