They Had Dreams But They Called Them

She Is Sitting On Frozen Ground Wrapped In A Blanket, Her Pale Skin Shining. She Smiles And She Stands And Without Words, She Steps Forward, Opens The Blanket, Envelops Me Within It And Within Her And Within Myself. She Kisses My Cheek, The One Not Torn, She Wraps Me And She Holds Me. Her Arms Are Thin But Strong. She Whispers In My Ear, "i'm Glad You're Here.

The One Word Love Means Too Little For What It Is. It Doesn't Communicate Even A Fraction Of The Feelings Involved. Love. The Word Is Not Enough For What It Is. Love. Love.

Life, Not Death, Is The Great Mystery You Must Confront.

Ive Never Had Any Interest At All In Being A Journalist Or Writing Some Sort Of Historically Accurate Autobiography.

In Life We Often Look To Others For Simple, But Difficult Answers, Despite The Fact That We Have Those Answers Ourselves.