By Writing I Can Live In Ways

He Despised His Body For Its Boring Hungers, Reflex Anger; Its Petty, Obliterating Rage. But Now He'd Become Detached. He Regarded His Body With A Tender Regret. It Was The Thing His Spirit Had To Haul.

Our Songs Travel The Earth. We Sing To One Another. Not A Single Note Is Ever Lost And No Song Is Original. They All Come From The Same Place And Go Back To A Time When Only The Stones Howled.

I Think One Of The Reasons To Be Here On Earth Is To Finally Be Who We Are, At All Times - To Know And Be Predictable To Ourselves.

A Woman's Body Is The Gate To This Life. A Man's Body Is The Gate To The Next Life.

Veils Of Love Which Was Only Hate Petrified By Longing--that Was Me.