Your Face Is My Heart

What Are You Doing With The Child?" I Inquired Cautiously. "i'm Teachin' Young James Here The Fine Art Of Not Pissing On His Feet," He Explained.

Healing Comes From The Healed; Not From The Physician.

D'ye Ken That The Only Time I Am Without Pain Is In Your Bed, Sassenach? When I Take Ye, When I Lie In Your Arms-my Wounds Are Healed, Then, My Scars Forgotten.

When You Hold A Child To Your Breast To Nurse, The Curve Of The Little Head Echoes Exactly The Curve Of The Breast It Suckles, As Though This New Person Truly Mirrors The Flesh From Which It Sprang.

It's A Good Country For Myths. Things Seem To Take Root Here.