If You Want To Be True To

I Am One In A Row Of Specimens. It's When I Try To Flutter Out Of Line That He Hates Me. I'm Meant To Be Dead, Pinned, Always The Same, Always Beautiful. He Knows That Part Of My Beauty Is Being Alive. But It's The Dead Me He Wants. He Wants Me Living-but-dead.

Our Accepting What We Are Must Always Inhibit Our Being What We Ought To Be.

The Price Of Tapping Water Into Every House Is That No One Values Water Any More.

Whole Sight; Or All The Rest Is Desolation.

The Diary Will Really Try And Tell People Who You Are And What You Were. The Alternative Is Writing Nothing, Or Creating A Totally Lifeless, As It Is Leafless, Garden.