Behind All This, Some Great

The Memory Of My Father Is Wrapped Up In White Paper, Like Sandwiches Taken For A Day Of Work. Just As A Magician Takes Towers And Rabbits Out Of His Hat, He Drew Love From His Small Body.

I Think The End Is Endless. It's Either A Big Black Hole Or A Big White Light Or Both Together. But It's Totally Meaningless, Because Even If Someone Would Explain It, I Wouldn't Understand It.

The Soul Inside Me Is The Last Foreign Language I'm Learning.

From The Place Where We Are Right, Flowers Will Not Grow In The Spring.

I’ve Never Been In Those Places Where I’ve Never Been And Never Will Be, I Have No Share In The Infinity Of Light-years And Dark-years, But The Darkness Is Mine, And The Light, And My Time Is My Own.