I Know Where I'm Going. And If

We Have Different Kinds Of Intimacy With Many, Many People. I'm Disappointed By Well-written Novels That Only Deal With Two Or Three People.

There Was Such An Incredible Logic To Kissing, Such A Metal-to-magnet Pull Between Two People That It Was A Wonder That They Found The Strength To Prevent Themselves From Succumbing Every Second. Rightfully, The World Should Be A Whirlpool Of Kissing Into Which We Sank And Never Found The Strength To Rise Up Again.

It Was Never The Right Time Or It Was Always The Right Time, Depending On How You Looked At It.

Sometimes Love Does Not Have The Most Honorable Beginnings, And The Endings, The Endings Will Break You In Half. It's Everything In Between We Live For.

Why Is It That We Understand Playing The Cello Will Require Work, But We Attribute Writing To The Magic Of Inspiration?