We Are But Skin About A Wind,

One Must Not Look Inward Too Much, While The Inside Is Yet Tender. I Do Not Wish To Frighten Myself Until I Can Stand It.

Destiny And History Are Untidy.

Why Is It That Whenever I Hear Music I Think I’m A Bride?

Life Is Not To Be Told, Call It As Loud As You Like, It Will Not Tell Itself.

The Night Is A Skin Pulled Over The Head Of Day That The Day May Be In Torment.