I Need To Write Down

It Was A Particularly Good Evening To Begin A Book.

Storms Probably Exist Only Because After Them We Can Have A Sunrise.

You Can't Ever Be Really Free If You Admire Somebody Too Much.

Most Of The People Are Homesick Anyway, And A Little Lonely, And They Hide Themselves In Their Hair And Are Turned Into Flowers.

Before We Left, Grandmother Talked A Lot About The Arctic Night We Would Fly Through. 'isn't It A Mystical Word, "arctic"? Pure And Quite Hard. And Meridians. Isn't That Pretty? We're Going To Fly Along Them, Faster Than The Light Can Follow Us... Time Won't Be Able To Catch Us.