He Felt For A Moment Uncreated. Another

That Was The Sort Of Everyday Love I Had To Learn To Contend With: If You Grow Up With It, It's Hard To Think You'll Ever Match It. I Used To Think It Was Difficult For Children Of Folks Who Really Loved Each Other, Hard To Get Out From Under That Skin Because Sometimes It's Just So Comfortable You Don't Want To Have To Develop Your Own.

Memory Has A Heavy Backspin, Yet It’s Still Impossible To Land Exactly Where We Took Off.

We Seldom Know What We're Hearing When We Hear Something For The First Time, But One Thing Is Certain: We Hear It As We Will Never Hear It Again. We Return To The Moment To Experience It, I Suppose, But We Can Never Really Find It, Only Its Memory, The Faintest Imprint Of What Really Was, What It Meant.

People Think They Know The Mystery Of Living In Your Skin. They Don't. There's No One Who Knows Except The Person Who Carts It Around Her Own Self.

The City Was Bigger Than Its Buildings, Bigger Than Its Inhabitants Too. It Had Its Own Nuances. It Accepted Whatever Came Its Way, The Crime And The Violence And The Little Shocks Of Good That Crawled Out From Underneath The Everyday.