It Is So Unfair That He Lives

But Isn't This A Dance? Isn't All Of This A Dance? Isn't That What We Do With Words? Isn't That What We Do When We Talk, When We Spar, When We Make Plans Or Leave It To Chance? Some Of It's Choreographed. Some Of The Steps Have Been Done For Ages. And The Rest -- The Rest Is Spontaneous. The Rest Has To Be Decided On The Floor, In The Moment, Before The Music Ends.

It Daunted Me That You Were So Beautiful, That You Were So At Ease In Social Situations, As If Every Room Was Heliotropic, With You At The Center. And I Guess It Daunted You That I Had So Many More Friends Than You, That I Could Put My Words Together Like This, On Paper, And Could Sometimes Conjure A Certain Sense Out Of Things. The Key Is To Never Recognize These Imbalances. To Not Let The Dauntingness Daunt Us.

The Way You Argued With Me, You Would Have Thought That We Were Debating The Existence Of God Or Whether Or Not We Should Move In Together. These Kinds Of Fights Can Never Be Won – Even If You’re The Victor, You’ve Hurt The Other Person, And There Has To Be Some Loss Associated With That.

Bad Girl!" She Chided. "i'm Pretty Sure Boris Is A Boy," I Said. "oh, I Know," Mrs. Basil E. Assured Me. "i Just Like To Keep Him Confused," Then She And Boris Headed Off With My Future.

Sharing Truth Is Not The Kind Of Gift That Comes In Wrapping Paper - Ripped Open Once And, There, You're Done. No, This Is A Gift That Must Be Unfolded.