Sometimes, When You’re Sad You Don’t Know

He Put His Hands On Her Shoulders And Kissed Her Full On The Mouth. His Skin Was Wet With Rain. When She Didn't Pull Away, He Took Her Face Between His Hands And Kissed Her Again, On Her Forehead, On Her Nose, On Her Mouth Once More. "you Will Come, Won't You? Promisse!" He Whispered.

Power. Intoxicating. Like A Fine Wine.

Didn't Books Say That Too: That There Is Always Price To Pay For Happiness?

The Books In Mo And Meggie's House Were Stacked Under Tables, On Chairs, In The Corners Of The Rooms. There Where Books In The Kitchen And Books In The Lavatory. Books On The Tv Set And In The Closet, Small Piles Of Books, Tall Piles Of Books, Books Thick And Thin, Books Old And New. They Welcomed Meggie Down To Breakfast With Invitingly Opened Pages; They Kept Boredom At Bay When The Weather Was Bad. And Sometimes You Fall Over Them.

Blue As The Evening Sky, Blue As Cranesbill Flowers, Blue As The Lips Of Drowned Men And The Heart Of A Blaze Burning With Too Hot A Flame. Yes, Sometimes It Was Hot In This World, Too. Hot And Cold, Light And Dark, Terrible And Beautiful, It Was Everything All At Once. It Wasn't True That You Felt Nothing In The Land Of Death. You Felt And Heard And Smelled And Saw, But Your Heart Remained Strangely Calm, As If It Were Resting Before The Dance Began Again. Peace. Was That The Word?