The Sound Of Her Laughter Was Sticky

Wasn't That The Way It Always Was? You Didn't Know, You Couldn't Tell, You Just Let It Happen... Perhaps They Didn't Know Themselves. Sometimes The Line Was Very Fine.

No Matter How Unappealing, Each Of Them Imagines He Is Somehow Worthy.

I Hated Labels Anyway. People Didn't Fit In Slots--prostitute, Housewife, Saint--like Sorting The Mail. We Were So Mutable, Fluid With Fear And Desire, Ideals And Angles, Changeable As Water.

Purification In Fire. Public Cremation

Don't Hoard The Past. Don't Cherish Anything. Burn It. The Artist Is The Phoenix Who Burns To Emerge.