What We Do Battle With

To Be Here Is Immense.

Dying Is Strange And Hard If It Is Not Our Death, But A Death That Takes Us By Storm, When We've Ripened None Within Us.

I Am Touched By Your Beautiful Anxiety About Life.

Swells, Marina? We Ocean, Depths, Marina? We Sky!

Solitude Is Nothing That One Can Choose Or Retrain From. We Are Solitary. We Can Delude Ourselves About This And Act As If It Were Not True. That Is All.