I Have A Narrative, But You Will

We Are Adhering To Life Now With Our Last Muscle - The Heart.

Destiny And History Are Untidy.

If Helen Of Troy Could Have Been Seen Eating Peppermints Out Of A Paper Bag, It Is Highly Probable That Her Admirers Would Have Been An Entirely Different Class.it Is The Thing You Are Found Doing While The Horde Looks On That You Shall Be Loved For - Or Ignored.

I Am Not A Critic; To Me Criticism Is So Often Nothing More Than The Eye Garrulously Denouncing The Shape Of The Peephole That Gives Access To Hidden Treasure.

The Night Is A Skin Pulled Over The Head Of Day That The Day May Be In Torment.