There Is No Person Without A World.

Each Night About This Time He Puts On Sadness Like A Garment And Goes On Writing.

Eros Is An Issue Of Boundaries. He Exists Because Certain Boundaries Do. In The Interval Between Reach And Grasp, Between Glance And Counterglance, Between ‘i Love You’ And ‘i Love You Too,’ The Absent Presence Of Desire Comes Alive. But The Boundaries Of Time And Glance And I Love You Are Only Aftershocks Of The Main, Inevitable Boundary That Creates Eros: The Boundary Of Flesh And Self Between You And Me. And It Is Only, Suddenly, At The Moment When I Would Dissolve That Boundary, I Realize I Never Can.

Maybe I Could Have Been Good As A Drawer If I Had Done It As Much As I Did Writing, But It's More Scary To Draw. It's More Revealing. You Can't Disguise Yourself In Drawing.

A Page With A Poem On It Is Less Attractive Than A Page With A Poem On It And Some Tea Stains.

Comfortable Means Gradually More And More Flattened Down, More And More Blunt - Less And Less Sharp And Biting Into You.