Everything Ends With Flowers.

Everything Ends With Flowers.

There Is No Greater Love Than The Love The Wolf Feels For The Lamb-it-doesn’t-eat.

When I Write, It's Everything That We Don't Know We Can Be That Is Written Out Of Me, Without Exclusions, Without Stipulation, And Everything We Will Be Calls Us To The Unflagging, Intoxicating, Unappeasable Search For Love. In One Another We Will Never Be Lacking.

Writing Is The Passageway, The Entrance, The Exit, The Dwelling Place Of The Other In Me.

And I Was Afraid. She Frightens Me Because She Can Knock Me Down With A Word. Because She Does Not Know That Writing Is Walking On A Dizzying Silence Setting One Word After The Other On Emptiness. Writing Is Miraculous And Terrifying Like The Flight Of A Bird Who Has No Wings But Flings Itself Out And Only Gets Wings By Flying.