My Point Is: In This Whole Wide

When I Open Them, Most Of The Books Have The Smell Of An Earlier Time Leaking Out Between The Pages - A Special Odor Of The Knowledge And Emotions That For Ages Have Been Calmly Resting Between The Covers. Breathing It In, I Glance Through A Few Pages Before Returning Each Book To Its Shelf.

It's True Though: Time Moves In Its Own Special Way In The Middle Of The Night," The Bartender Says, Loudly Striking A Book Match And Lighting A Cigarette. "you Can't Fight It.

People Fall In Love Without Reason, Without Even Wanting To. You Can't Predict It. That's Love.

That's What We All Do: Endlessly Take The Long Way Around.

No Matter How Honestly You Open Up To Someone, There Are Still Things You Cannot Reveal.