What Happens To The Rest Of Something

War Is Being Reminded That You Are Completely At The Mercy Of Death At Every Moment, Without The Illusion That You Are Not. Without The Distractions That Make Life Worth Living.

Any Love That Is Love Is Right.

Morning. Strawberry Sky Dusted With White Winter Powder Sugar Sun. And Nobody To Munch On It With

Sometimes She Has Imagined What It Would Be Like To Fly, To Live In The River, To Run Like A Horse. She Has Dreamed Of That Freedom, That Power, And Fears The Wildness In Herself That Wants To Live As Beasts Live, Moved Purely By Need And Desire. She Has Felt Torn Between The Heat Of Her Limbs And The Thoughts In Her Mind Telling Her To Be Careful And Good And Always Calm. Don't Scream Or Cry, Don't Run To Him And Throw Yourself At His Feet, Pleading For Him To Take You In His Arms, Don't Strip Off Your Clothes And Run Naked To The Water, Wild With Wanting.

He Said That Black Sheeps Express Everyone Else's Anger And Pain. It's Not That They Have All The Anger And Pain-they're Just The Only Ones Who Let It Out. Then The Other People Don't Have To.