The Richest Love Is That Which Submits

Frost In January Minus 20 For A Week. Dead Birds Frozen On The Branch—they Fall With The First Thaw Like Ripe Fruit—death-ripened. We Shall All End Like Them—just A Stain In The Snow.

Music Was Invented To Confirm Human Loneliness.

How Grudging Memory Is, And How Bitterly She Clutches The Raw Material Of Her Daily Work.

Gamblers And Lovers Really Play To Lose.

Truth Is What Most Contradicts Itself.