Science Is The Poetry Of

Guilt Always Hurries Towards Its Complement, Punishment: Only There Does Its Satisfaction Lie.

These Are The Moments Which Are Not Calculable, And Cannot Be Assessed In Words; They Live On In The Solution Of Memory, Like Wonderful Creatures, Unique Of Their Own Kind, Dredged Up From The Floors Of Some Unexplored Ocean.

Does Not Everything Depend On Our Interpretation Of The Silence Around Us?

A Woman's Best Love Letters Are Always Written To The Man She Is Betraying.

Lovers Can Find Nothing To Say To Each Other That Has Not Been Said And Unsaid A Thousand Times Over. Kisses Were Invented To Translate Such Nothings Into Wounds