If You Stop Thinking, If You Stop

Remember This... Develop A Sense Of Nostalgia For Something, Or You'll Never Figure Out What's Important.

You Are Not What You Want. You Are What Wants You Back.

By Reading This Message You Are Denying Its Existence And Implying Consent.

We Know Summer Is The Height Of Of Being Alive. We Don't Believe In God Or The Prospect Of An Afterlife Mostly, So We Know That We're Only Given Eighty Summers Or So Per Lifetime, And Each One Has To Be Better Then The Last, Has To Encompass A Trip To That Arts Center Up At Bard, A Seemingly Mellow Game Of Badminton Over At Some Yahoo's Vermont Cottage, And A Cool, Wet, Slightly Dangerous Kayak Trip Down An Unforgiving River. Otherwise, How Would You Know That You Have Lived Your Summertime Best? What Is You Missed Out On Some Morsel Of Shaded Nirvana?

The Fading Light Is Us, And We Are, For A Moment So Brief (...) Beautiful.