They Stayed, Many Of Them, Because Staying

The Line Of Gray Along The Horizon Is Brighter Now, And With The Coming Light I Feel A Certainty: That There Is, Despite Our Wild Imaginings, Only One Life. The Ghostly Others, No Matter How Real They Seem, No Matter How Badly We Need Them, Are Phantoms. The One Life We're Left With Is Sufficient To Fill And Refill Our Imperfect Hearts With Joy, And Then To Shatter Them. And It Never, Ever Lets Up.

He Looks Like He Could Be Taken In A Fight. Not By Me, But By Somebody. Not Anyone In Humanities, Probably.

Don't Even The Best And Most Fortunate Of Lives Hint At Other Possibilities, At A Different Kind Of Sweetness And, Yes, Bitterness Too? Isn't This Why We Can't Help Feeling Cheated, Even When We Know We Haven't Been?

There Are A Great Many Sins In This World, None Of Them Original.

Why Mince Words? Beautiful Ruins Is An Absolute Masterpiece.