I Know There Is A Moral To

Part Of The Work Of Writing A Novel Is To Uncover The Symmetries Or Connections That Make It Whole, Which Might Not Reveal Itself At First.

For Her I Changed Pebbles Into Diamonds, Shoes Into Mirrors, I Changed Glass Into Water, I Gave Her Wings And Pulled Birds From Her Ears And In Her Pockets She Found The Feathers, I Asked A Pear To Become A Pineapple, A Pineapple To Become A Lightbulb, A Lightbulb To Become The Moon, And The Moon To Become A Coin I Flipped For Her Love.

Forests, Which I Think Do Contain A Lot Mystery And Traditionally Are The Setting For Lawlessness And Magic And What Is Outside Of The Rational To Some Degree, Are Still Something More Finite. I Guess The Desert And Its Crushing Sense Of Infinite Space Is Part Of Its Connection To The Mystical - On Top Of Making You Dehydrated And Therefore Primed For Visions.

He Learned To Live With The Truth. Not To Accept It, But To Live With It. It Was Like Living With An Elephant. His Room Was Tiny, And Every Morning He Had To Squeeze Around The Truth Just To Get To The Bathroom. To Reach The Armoire To Get A Pair Of Underpants He Had To Crawl Under The Truth, Praying It Wouldn't Choose That Moment To Sit On His Face. At Night, When He Closed His Eyes, He Felt It Looming Above Him.

The Oldest Emotion In The World May Be That Of Being Moved; But To Describe It-just To Name It-must Have Been Like Trying To Catch Something Invisible.