A Kiss Is Like Singing Into Someone's

Habit, A Particularly Insidious Thug Who Chokes Passion And Smothers Love. Habit Puts Us On Autopilot.

There Is That Unique Moment When One Confronts Something New And Astonishment Begins.

History Is An Agreed-upon Fiction.

Home Is Where The Heart Is, We Say, Rubbing The Flint Of One Abstraction Against Another.

Love Is Like A Batik Created From Many Emotional Colors, It Is A Fabric Whose Pattern And Brightness May Vary.