Get Thee Behind Me, Tragedy.

A Summer Rain Had Left The Night Clean And Sparkling With Drops Of Water. I Leaned Against The End Pillar Of The Gallery, My Head Touching The Soft Tendrils Of A Jasmine Which Grew There In A Constant Battle With A Wisteria, And I Thought Of What Lay Before Me Throughout The World And Throughout Time, And Resolved To Go About It Delicately And Reverently, Learning That From Each Thing Which Would Take Me Best To Another.

If I Am An Angel, Paint Me With Black Wings.

It Was As If When I Looked Into His Eyes I Was Standing Alone On The Edge Of The World...on A Windswept Ocean Beach. There Was Nothing But The Soft Roar Of The Waves.

Life Itself Must Be Founded Upon The Infinite Possibility For Choice And Accident. And If We Cannot Prove That It Is, We Must Believe That It Is. We Must Believe That We Can Change, That We Can Control, That We Can Direct Our Own Destinies.

I Wasn't Sent Here To Find Angels! I Wasn't Sent Here To Dream Of Them. I Wasn't Sent Here To Hear Them Sing! I Was Sent Here To Be Alive. To Breathe And Sweat And Thirst And Sometimes Cry.