Once You Have Lived With Another, It

While Time, The Endless Idiot, Runs Screaming Round The World.

Love Is The Main Generator Of All Good Writing... Love, Passion, Compassion, Are All Welded Together.

It Was Like They Waited To Tell Each Other Things That Had Never Been Told Before. What She Had To Say Was Terrible And Afraid. But What He Would Tell Her Was So True That It Would Make Everything All Right. Maybe It Was A Thing That Could Not Be Spoken With Words Or Writing. Maybe He Would Have To Let Her Understand This In A Different Way. That Was The Feeling She Had With Him.

In His Face There Came To Be A Brooding Peace That Is Seen Most Often In The Faces Of The Very Sorrowful Or The Very Wise. But Still He Wandered Through The Streets Of The Town, Always Silent And Alone.

But You Haven't Never Loved God Nor Even Nair Person. You Hard And Tough As Cowhide. But Just The Same I Knows You. This Afternoon You Going To Roam All Over The Place Without Never Being Satisfied. You Going To Traipse All Around Like You Haves To Find Something Lost. You Going To Work Yourself Up With Excitement. Your Heart Going To Beat Hard Enough To Kill You Because You Don't Love And Don't Have Peace. And Then Some Day You Going To Bust Loose And Be Ruined.