...the Heart Is An Organ

I Believe In Such Cartography – To Be Marked By Nature, Not Just Label Ourselves On A Map Like The Names Of Rich Men And Women On Buildings. We Are Communal Histories, Communal Books. ... All I Desired Was To Walk Upon Such An Earth That Had No Maps.

The One Of The Great Sadnesses Of Any Life Is Knowing What You Know Now And Then Remembering What You Did Not Know Then.

A Blind Lover, Don't Know What I Love Till I Write It Out

From This Point On, She Whispered, We Will Either Find Or Lose Our Souls.

A Postcard. Neat Handwriting Fills The Rectangle. Half My Days I Cannot Bear To Touch You. The Rest Of My Time I Feel Like It Doesn’t Matter If I Will Ever See You Again. It Isn’t The Morality, It’s How Much You Can Bear. No Date. No Name Attached.