Sure The World Breeds Monsters, But Kindness

He Never Gave Up On Me, I Only Stopped Being Matriculated.

Such A Small, Pure Object A Poem Could Be, Made Of Nothing But Air A Tiny String Of Letters, Maybe Small Enough To Fit In The Palm Of Your Hand. But It Could Blow Everybody's Head Off.

I Find A Great Deal Of Comfort And Care In My Faith And Prayer. I'd Sooner Do Without Air Than Prayer.

I've Never Contended That I Had A Really Horrible Life.

Every Now And Then We Enter The Presence Of The Numinous And Deduce For An Instant How We're Formed, In What Detail The Force That Infuses Every Petal Might Specifically Run Through Us, Wishing Only To Lure Us Into Our Full Potential.