I Prefer To Have Some Beliefs That

Death Is The Least Civilized Rite Of Passage.

I Am Part Of What She Thinks Is Her Illness, A Symptom Of Which She Thinks She Has Been Cured. She, On The Other Hand, Is What I Was Looking For.

Life Will Break You. Nobody Can Protect You From That. And Living Alone Won't Either, For Solitude Will Also Break You With Its Yearning. You Have To Love. You Have To Feel. It Is The Reason You Are Here On Earth.

I Want To Hear What's Happened To You," She Said Evenly After A While. She Gestured In The Direction, Down River, Of The Butcher Shop. "it's Just That There Is Nowhere Else To Start," She Said Gently. "niether Of Us Is The Same. But I'm Different Because Of Small, Good, Manageable Things. You're Different Because ... Things I Don't Know.

I Stood There In The Shadowed Doorway Thinking With My Tears. Yes, Tears Can Be Thoughts, Why Not?