Every Tiny Part Of Us Cries Out

Thought Itself Needs Words. It Runs On Them Like A Long Wire. And If It Loses The Habit Of Words, Little By Little It Becomes Shapeless, Somber.

We Cannot Bear To Regard Ourselves Simply As Playthings Of Blind Chance, We Cannot Admit To Feeling Ourselves Abandoned.

If We Have Anything Kind To Say, Any Tender Sentiment To Express, We Feel A Sense Of Shame.

At Any Given Moment, I Open My Eyes And Exist. And Before That, During All Eternity, What Was There? Nothing.

When You Put A Man And A Woman Together, There Are Some Things They Simply Have To Do. They Embrace, They Warm Each Other. All The Rest Is Dead And Empty.