The Illusion Is We Are Only Physical.

Pure At Heart: To Be Like A Flower That Blooms As Gloriously, Brilliantly In A Secluded Wild Wood, Not Seen And Praised.

We Call Interconnected Order Beautiful. When Interrupted, We Call It Chaos.

Teaching English And Teaching Writing Are Two Separate Things.

Anger Is A Wound Gone Mad.

I Became A Total Yes. We Don't Even Have Names Anymore.