You Don't Always Talk With

Even When Love Isn't Enough...somehow It Is.

It's Alright To Feel Fear, But Sometimes A Very Bad Idea To Show It.

It Had That Comfortably Sprung, Lived-in Look That Library Books With A Lively Circulation Always Get; Bent Page Corners, A Dab Of Mustard On Page 331, A Whiff Of Some Reader's Spilled After-dinner Whiskey On Page 468. Only Library Books Speak With Such Wordless Eloquence Of The Power Good Stories Hold Over Us, How Good Stories Abide, Unchanged And Mutely Wise, While We Poor Humans Grow Older And Slower.

Being Sorry For Myself Is A Luxury I Can't Afford.

Above, The Stars Shone Hard And Bright, Sparks Struck Off The Dark Skin Of The Universe.