Bruno, My Old Faithful. I Haven't Sufficiently

Sometimes No Length Of String Is Long Enough To Say The Thing That Needs To Be Said. In Such Cases All The String Can Do, In Whatever Its Form, Is Conduct A Person's Silence.

If At Large Gatherings Or Parties, Or Around People With Whom You Feel Distant, Your Hands Sometimes Hang Awkwardly At The Ends Of Your Arms - I You Find Yourself At A Loss For What Do With Them, Overcome With Sadness That Comes When You Recognize The Foreignnes Of Your Own Body - It's Because Your Hands Remember A Time When The Division Between Mind And Body, Brain And Heart, What's Inside And What's Outside, Was So Much Less.

...the Plural Of Elf Is Elves! What A Language! What A World!

To Me, This Is The Singular Privilege Of Reading Literature: We Are Allowed To Step Into Another's Life.

In Life We Sit At The Table And Refuse To Eat, And In Death We Are Eternally Hungry.