I Feel Overwhelmingly Grateful To Them, But

We Are, All Four Of Us, Blood Relatives, And We Speak A Kind Of Esoteric, Family Language, A Sort Of Semantic Geometry In Which The Shortest Distance Between Any Two Points Is A Fullish Circle.

I Don't Really Deeply Feel That Anyone Needs An Airtight Reason For Quoting From The Works Of Writers He Loves, But It's Always Nice, I'll Grant You, If He Has One.

I Can’t Explain What I Mean. And Even If I Could, I’m Not Sure I’d Feel Like It.

Money Always Ends Up Making You Blue.

I Knew It Wasn't Too Important, But It Made Me Sad Anyway.