The Silence Is Perfect, And

We Are Too Kind, Too Willing--too Unwilling Too--reaching Out Blindly With A Grasping Hand But Not Knowing How To Ask For What We Don't Even Know We Want.

It's The Arrangement Of Events Which Makes The Stories. It's Throwing Away, Compressing, Underlining. Hindsight Can Give Structure To Anything, But You Have To Be Able To See It. Breathing, Waking And Sleeping: Our Lives Are Steamed And Shaped Into Stories. Knowing That Is What Keeps Me From Going Insane, And Though I Don't Like To Admit It, Sometimes It's The Only Thing.

Words Are Our Life. We Are Human Because We Use Language. So I Think We Are Less Human When We Use Less Language.

Why Should Men Be Allowed To Strut Under The Privilege Of Their Life Adventures, Wearing Them Like A Breast Full Of Medals, While Women Went All Gray And Silent Beneath The Weight Of Theirs?

There Are Chapters In Every Life Which Are Seldom Read And Certainly Not Aloud.