If You're Alive, You're A

Every Intimacy Carries Secreted Somewhere Below Its Initial Lovely Surfaces, The Ever-coiled Makings Of Complete Catastrophe.

Embrace The Glorious Mess That You Are

But Vegetarians Can Eat This...because Intestines Aren't Even Meat, Liz. They're Just Sh$*.

I Have Searched Frantically For Contentment For So Many Years In So Many Ways, And All The Acquisitions And Accomplishments- They Run You Down In The End.

Your Home Is Whatever In This World You Love More Than You Love Yourself. So That Might Be Creativity, Family, Invention, Adventure, Faith, Service, It Might Be Raising Corgies, I Don't Know - Your Home Is That Thing To Which You Can Dedicate Your Energies With Such Singular Devotion That The Ultimate Results Become Inconsequential.