No, Edward. You Are Here So I

Once We Began To Chime The Hour, We Lost The Ability To Be Satisfied

Scenery Without Solace Is Meaningless.

When A Lost Loved One Appears Before You, It's Your Brain That Fights It, Not Your Heart.

Lost Love Is Still Love.

My Mother Was French Protestant, And My Father Was Italian Catholic, And Their Union Was An Excess Of God, Guilt And Sauce.