The Earth Here Is Beautiful. And It

Suffering Of Sentient Beings Is Like Decay; It Fertilizes The Growth Of Their Souls.

The Prince Is Never Going To Come. Everyone Knows That; And Maybe Sleeping Beauty's Dead.

My Own Funeral, I'd Like To Be Laid Out In A Coffin In My Own House. I Would Like My Coffin To Be Put In The Double Parlor, And I Would Like All The Flowers To Be White.

It Was As If The Empty Nights Were Made For Thinking Of Him. And Sometimes I Found Myself So Vividly Aware Of Him It Was As If He Had Only Just Left The Room And The Ring Of His Voice Were Still There. And Somehow, There Was A Disturbing Comfort In That, And, Despite Myself, I’d Envision His Face.

One Tiny Flame Could Make So Many Other Flames; One Tiny Flame Could Set Afire A Whole World.