Write What You Love. Love

For Some Reason, You Will No Longer Be The Person You Believed You Once Were. You'll Detect Slow And Subtle Shifts Going On All Around You, More Importantly Shifts In You. Worse, You'll Realize It's Always Been Shifting, Like A Shimmer Of Sorts, A Vast Shimmer, Only Dark Like A Room. But You Won't Understand Why Or How.

At The Heart Of Any Terror Is The Fear Of Losing What We Find Meaningful.

I'm All Soils West When The Earth Lets Go. I'm A Thousand Julys.

Make No Mistake, Those Who Write Long Books Have Nothing To Say. Of Course Those Who Write Short Books Have Even Less To Say.

People Frequently Comment On The Emptiness In One Night Stands, But Emptiness Here Has Always Been Just Another Word For Darkness. Blind Encounters Writing Sonnets No One Can Ever Read. Desire And Pain Communicated In The Vague Language Of Sex. None Of Which Made Sense To Me Until Much Later When I Realized Everything I Thought I'd Retained Of My Encounters Added Up To So Very Little, Hardly Enduring, Just Shadows Of Love Outlining Nothing At All.