Make It A Rule Of Life Never

Ach, Tchekov! Why Are You Dead? Why Can’t I Talk To You In A Big Darkish Room At Late Evening—where The Light Is Green From The Waving Trees Outside? I’d Like To Write A Series Of Heavens: That Would Be One.

What I Feel For You Can’t Be Conveyed In Phrasal Combinations; It Either Screams Out Loud Or Stays Painfully Silent But I Promise — It Beats Words. It Beats Worlds. I Promise

Children Are Unaccountable Little Creatures.

You Have Never Been Curious About Me; You Never Wanted To Explore My Soul.

That Is The Fearful Part Of Having Been Near Death. One Knows How Easy It Is To Die. The Barriers That Are Up For Everybody Else Are Down For You, And You've Only To Slip Through.