Traditionally, I Have Responded To The Transcendent

People Always Fall In Love With The Most Perfect Aspects Of Each Other's Personalities. Who Wouldn't? Anybody Can Love The Most Wonderful Parts Of Another Person. But That's Not The Clever Trick. The Really Clever Trick Is This: Can You Accept The Flaws? Can You Look At Your Partner's Faults Honestly And Say, 'i Can Work Around That. I Can Make Something Out Of It.'? Because The Good Stuff Is Always Going To Be There, And It's Always Going To Pretty And Sparkly, But The Crap Underneath Can Ruin You.

I Would Like To Spend The Rest Of My Days In A Place So Silent–and Working At A Pace So Slow–that I Would Be Able To Hear Myself Living.

When It Seemed Like I Was Going To Really Have To Be There At Todd's [willingham] Execution, I Don't Think I Could Have Done It. I Think I Began To Distance Myself. I Didn't Visit As Often; I Didn't Write As Often. This Was Kind Of After My Conversation With [fire Science Expert] Gerald Hurst. And The [car] Accident Made Sure That I Didn't Have To Go Up There. But I Think He And I Both Shared That.

To My Taste, The Men In Rome Are Ridiculously, Hurtfully, Stupidly Beautiful. More Beautiful Even Than Roman Women, To Be Honest. Italian Men Are Beautiful In The Same Way As French Women, Which Is To Say-- No Detail Spared In The Quest For Perfection. They’re Like Show Poodles. Sometimes They Look So Good I Want To Applaud.

This Is A Nice Metaphor, Too, About Mothers And Daughters - That When It Came Time For Me To Make My Own, I Was Making A Completely Different Garden Than The One That My Mom Has. They Don't Look Like They Came From Relatives. Hers Is A Very Productive And Pragmatic Vegetable Garden, And Mine Is A Ridiculous Overabundance Of Useless Plants. It Doesn't Feed Anybody, It Doesn't Serve Any Purpose.