While Time, The Endless Idiot, Runs Screaming

We Wander, Question. But The Answer Waits In Each Separate Heart - The Answer Of Our Own Identity And The Way By Which We Can Master Loneliness And Feel That At Last We Belong.

But The Hearts Of Small Children Are Delicate Organs. A Cruel Beginning In This World Can Twist Them Into Curious Shapes.

I'm Not Explaining This Right. What Happened Was This. There Were These Beautiful Feelings And Loose Little Pleasures Inside Me. And This Woman Was Something Like An Assembly Line For My Soul. I Run These Little Pieces Of Myself Through Her And I Come Out Complete. Now Do You Follow Me?

Writing, For Me, Is A Search For God.

Imagination Takes Humility, Love And Great Courage.