It Was Like Him, Too, To Love

She Has Her Own Glamour, Willy Lad. All Poets Do, All The Bards And Artists, All The Musicians Who Truly Take The Music Into Their Own Hearts. They All Straddle The Border Of Faerie, And They See Into Both Worlds. Not Dependably Into Either, Perhaps, But That Uncertainty Keeps Them Honest And At A Distance.

It Was Like Him, Too, To Love Her And Admit To It Before He Knew If She Loved Him. Maybe Only Mortals Expected To Barter Their Hearts.

Is Negative Space The Space You Don't Like, Or The Space That Is Not There? And If It's Not There How Can You Tell?

To Those Who See The Magical Surface Of Things, You Are Invisible.' Good Grief. Will You Still Be Able To See Me?' He Met Her Eyes In A Way That Made Her Shiver Pleasantly. 'i See You In A Great Many Ways. It Would Be Hard To Blind Me In All Of Them.

Here's What I Think I'm Having Trouble With: This Is What Happiness Is. When I Was A Kid, I Thought I'd Just Get Happier And Happier As I Got Older, And Have More Things To Be Happy About. I Based This Theory On Observation Of Select Adults. The Problem With My Results Is That I Couldn't Tell The Difference Then Between Happy And Fake-happy. Now I Know You Pretend To Be Just Frigging Ecstatic Over Everything, Maybe Because You're So Glad It's Not Worse.