My Books Are Inert As Cordwood Till

When Experience Flies Into Realms That Language Cannot Touch, Honesty Demands Beyond-language.

I Started Having Doubts Right On Top Of My Certainty.

Punctuationally Speaking, Wonder Is A Period At The End Of A Statement We've Long Taken For Granted, Suddenly Looking Up And Seeing The Sinuous Curve Of A Tall Black Hat On Its Head, And Realizing It Was A Question Mark All Along.

Faith Of Cranes Is A Love Song To The Beauty And Worth Of The Lives We Are Able To Lead In The World Just As It Is, Troubled Though It Be... The Writing Is Honest, Intensely Lived, And Overflowing With Heart: Broken, Mended, And Whole.

The Bad Thing About Falling Into Pieces Is That It Hurts. The Good Thing About It Is That Once You're Lying There In Shards You've Got Nothing Left To Protect, And So Have No Reason Not To Be Honest