We Live On The Leash Of Our

On Some Summer Days In New York City, The Air Hangs Thickly Visible, Like The Combined Exhalations Of Eight Million Souls. Steam Rising From Vents Underground Makes You Wonder If There Isn't One Giant Sweat Gland Lodged Beneath The City.

Nature Is More Like A Seesaw Than A Crystal, A Never-ending Conga Line Of Bold Moves And Corrections.

Who Would Drink From A Cup When They Can Drink From The Source?

A Kiss Is Like Singing Into Someone's Mouth.

Love Is The White Light Of Emotion.