Here Is The World, And

You Want To Give Him The Book Of His Own Life, The Book That Will Locate Him, Parent Him, Arm Him For The Changes.

The Kiss Was Innocent--innocent Enough--but It Was Also Full Of Something Not Unlike What Virginia Wants From London, From Life; It Was Full Of A Love Complex And Ravenous, Ancient, Neither This Nor That. It Will Serve As This Afternoon's Manifestation Of The Central Mystery Itself, The Elusive Brightness That Shines From The Edges Of Certain Dreams; The Brightness Which, When We Awaken, Is Already Fading From Our Minds, And Which We Rise In The Hope Of Finding, Perhaps Today, This New Day In Which Anything Might Happen, Anything At All.

I Am Beginning To Understand The True Difference Between Youth And Age. Young People Have Time To Make Plans And Think Of New Ideas. Older People Need Their Whole Energy To Keep Up With What’s Already Been Set In Motion.

She Thinks How Much More Space A Being Occupies In Life Than It Does In Death; How Much Illusion Of Size Is Contained In Gestures And Movements, In Breathing. Dead, We Are Revealed In Our True Dimensions, And They Are Surprisingly Modest.

How We Dress Is, As Far As I Can Tell, The Only Inescapably Public Choice That We Have. People Don't Need To Know What You Eat, People Don't Need To Know Who You Have Sex With. But There's No Escaping What You Wear And The Fact That You've Chosen It. Even If You Insist That You Don't Care About Fashion, That's Your Statement. It's Really One Realm Of Life Where You Are Forced To Make Your Own Statement.