What Keeps Me Going Is

Love Itself Is What Is Left Over When Being "in Love" Has Burned Away, And This Is Both An Art And A Fortunate Accident.

We Have Roots That Grow Towards Each Other Underground. And When All The Pretty Blossom Has Fallen From Our Branches We Find That We Are One Tree And Not Two.

When You Fall In Love, It Is A Temporary Madness. It Erupts Like An Earthquake, And Then It Subsides. And When It Subsides, You Have To Make A Decision. You Have To Work Out Whether Your Roots Are Become So Entwined Together That It Is Inconceivable That You Should Ever Part.

Your Lips Are Like Sugar And Your Cheeks An Apple Your Breasts Are Paradise And Your Body A Lily. O, To Kiss The Sugar To Bite The Apple To Reveal Paradise And Open The Lily.

Man Is A Bird Without Wings And A Bird Is A Man Without Sorrow.