I Give Thanks For All That Has

I Frightened Myself. I Became The Ghost Piper Was So Scared Of.

But All I Could Think Was In New York That Kid Would Have Been Stuck In A Straitjacket Practically From Birth And Dangled Over A Tank Full Of Educational Consultants And Remedial Experts All Snapping At His Ankles For The Next Twenty Years Arguing About His Special Needs And Getting Paid Plenty For It.

It's Not That He Lacked Poetry. But His Poetry Was Of The Body, Not The Mind. He Spoke It In The Way He Moved, The Way He Held A Hammer, Rowed A Boat, Built A Fire. I, On The Other Hand, Was Like A Brain In A Box, A Beating Heart In A Coal Scuttle.

She Frowned At Him. 'you Are In Love With Solitude.' 'is There A Better Cure For The World Than Solitude?

Accept Love Instinctively, Without Responsibility Or Conditions.