Love dares the self to leave itself behind, to enter into poverty.
DEATH . . . And now you are here to fight for this woman. You know her promise is given. She has to die or her husband won't go free. APOLLO Relax, I'm not breaking any laws. DEATH Why the bow, if you're breaking no laws? APOLLO I always carry a bow, it's my trademark.
Life pulls softly inside your bindings. The pod glows - dear stench.
I never had much education in English poetry as such.
If your way of life is writing, then everything that happens becomes a sentence.
The self forms at the edge of desire, and a science of self arises in the effort to leave that self behind.