I Sometimes Think That The Size Of

Every Life, Every Love, Every Action And Feeling And Thought Has Its Reason And Significance: Its Beginning, And The Part It Plays In The End. Sometimes, We Do See.

The Choking Humidity Makes Amphibians Of Us All, In Bombay, Breathing Water In Air; You Learn To Live With It, And You Learn To Like It, Or You Leave.

The Touch Was Exactly What The Touch Of A Lover's Hand Should Be: Familiar, Yet Exciting As A Whispered Promise. I Felt An Almost Irresistible Urge To Take Her Hand And Place It Flat Against My Chest, Near My Heart. Maybe I Should've Done It. I Know Now That She Would've Laughed, If I'd Done It, And She Would've Liked Me For It. But Strangers That We Were Then, We Stood For Five Long Seconds And Held The Stare, While All The Parallel Worlds, All The Parallel Lives That Might've Been, And Never Would Be, Whirled Around Us.

Some Feelings Sink So Deep Into The Heart That Only Loneliness Can Help You Find Them Again. Some Truths Are So Painful That Only Shame Can Help You Live With Them. Some Things Are So Sad That Only Your Soul Can Do The Crying For Them.

So When Will Be The Time To Get On The Train? I Think.....a Little Bit Almost Quite Very Soon And Not Long.