We Passed Over In A Sweep Of

Don't Read Anything Except What Destroys The Insulation Between Yourself And Your Experience.

Veils Of Love Which Was Only Hate Petrified By Longing--that Was Me.

I Was The Sort Of Kid Who Spent A Sunday Afternoon Prying Little Trees Out Of The Foundation Of His Parents' House. I Should Have Given In To The Inevitable Truth That This Was The Sort Of Person I Would Become, In The End, But I Kept Fighting It.

When Every Inch Of The World Is Known, Sleep May Be The Only Wilderness That We Have Left.

When Small Towns Find They Cannot Harm The Strangest Of Their Members, When Eccentrics Show Resilience, They Are Eventually Embraced And Even Cherished.