Love Is The First Lie;

There Is Always More Surface To A Shattered Object Than A Whole.

Even The Contemplative Life Is Only An Effort, Nora My Dear, To Hide The Body So The Feet Won’t Stick Out.

Suffering For Love Is How I Have Learned Practically Everything I Know, Love Of Grandmother Up And On.

To Think Is To Be Sick.

I'm A Fart In A Gale Of Wind, A Humble Violet Under A Cow Pat.