Parting Is A Training Streamer,lingering Like Leaves

What Are Days For? Days Are Where We Live.

I Am Beginning To Think Of The Human Imagination As A Fruit Machine On Which Victories Are Rare And Separated By Much Vain Expense, And Represent A Rare Alignment Of Mental And Spiritual Qualities That Normally Are Quite At Odds.

How Little Our Careers Express What Lies In Us, And Yet How Much Time They Take Up. It's Sad, Really.

What Will Survive Of Us Is Love.

Home Is So Sad. It Stays As It Was Left, / Shaped To The Comfort Of The Last To Go / As If To Win Them Back