I Have Spent My Life Resisting The

Either The World Is So Tiny Or We Are Enormous; In Either Case, We Fill It Completely.

Paths Are Made By Walking

Writing Means Revealing Oneself To Excess.

The Fact That Our Task Is Exactly Commensurate With Our Life Gives It The Appearance Of Being Infinite.

This Morning, For The First Time In A Long Time, The Joy Again Of Imagining A Knife Twisted In My Heart.