...which Causes Me To Wonder, My Own

Old Love, Middle Love, The Kind Of Love That Knows Itself And Knows That Nothing Lasts, Is A Desperate Shared Wildness.

Ravens Are The Birds I'll Miss Most When I Die. If Only The Darkness Into Which We Must Look Were Composed Of The Black Light Of Their Limber Intelligence. If Only We Did Not Have To Die At All. Instead, Become Ravens.

...whom He Had Saved From A Life Of Excessive Freedom

You Never Know Where You're Going To Find The Same Thoughts In Another Brain, But When It Happens You Know It Right Off, Just Like You Were Connected By A Small Electrical Wire That Suddenly Glows Red Hot And Sparks.

There Is No Such Thing As A Complete Lack Of Order, Only A Design So Vast It Appears Unrepetitive Up Close.