Being in love makes me vulnerable. Intimacy on that level can be so exposing. Accepting that vulnerability and allowing myself to be completely transparent is an ongoing process for me.
Change lays her hand not upon the truth.
Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which.
Today will die tomorrow.
I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.
I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.
For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
Few of the great tragedies of history were created by the village idiot, and many by the village genius.
The road now stretched across open country, and it occured to me - not by way of protest, not as a symbol, or anything like that, but merely as a novel experience - that since I had disregarded all laws of humanity, I might as well disregard the rules of traffic. So I crossed to the left side of the highway and checked the feeling, and the feeling was good. It was a pleasant diaphragmal melting, with elements of diffused tactility, all this enhanced by the thought that nothing could be nearer to the elimination of basic physical laws than deliberately driving on the wrong site of the road.
I play fantasy basketball and fantasy football, soccer.
Your map of Africa is really quite nice. But my map of Africa lies in Europe. Here is Russia, and here. . . is France, and we're in the middle - that's my map of Africa.