When We Are Young, The Words Are

This So Gnawed At Him On Some Nights That He Lay Awake Wondering Just How Many Unknown And Similarly Inconsequential Accidents And Bits Of Happenstance Were At This Moment Occurring Or Failing To Occur In Order To Ensure He Took His Next Breath, And The Next.

History Works Itself Out In The Living.

We All Got Holes In Our Lives. Nobody Dies In A Perfect Garment.

I Think She Is Confused By The Way I Want Her, Which Is Like Nobody Else. I Know This Deep Down. I Want Her In A New Way, A Way She's Never Been Told About.

To Love Another Another Human In All Of Her Splendor And Imperfect Perfection , It Is A Magnificent Task...tremendous And Foolish And Human.