Ask Her What She Craved, And She'd

But She Couldn't Dismiss Easily His Light Touch With Her. No Pushing Or Pressing, None Of That Herding And Corralling Bullshit, Unlike Any Of Her Old Boyfriends. And Maybe Who You Fell For And Who You Eventually Loved Wasn't Rational, No Matter How Hard You Tried To List Pros And Cons And Sum The Results. You Couldn't Think Your Way Through It, Not All The Way. Maybe Just The Scent Of Somebody Carried More Weight Than Everything Else Put Together.

Surely It Is A Sin To Reject The Few Gifts We Are Given. Be Happy In The Flash Of Time Granted To Us Or Hurt Forever.

We Mark Some Days As Fair, Some As Foul, Because We Do Not See That The Character Of Every Day As Identical

I Do The Same Things I Did When I Was 12 Years Old: I Ride Bikes, I Read Books, I Walk In The Woods. And I Listen To Music.

But I Believe The Words Entered Me And Changed Me And Still Work In Me. The Words Eat Me And Sustain Me. And When I'm Dead And In A Box In The Dark Dark Ground, And All My Various Souls Have Died And I Am Nothing But Insensible Bones, Something In The Marrow Will Still Feel Yearning, Desire Persisting Beyond Flesh.