Oh to have you with me, to have you here, not to be alone, but to be with you, my beauty, you of all souls! You.

I feel like an outsider, and I always will feel like one. I've always felt that I wasn't a member of any particular group.

I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.

It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him. And sometimes I found myself so vividly aware of him it was as if he had only just left the room and the ring of his voice were still there. And somehow, there was a disturbing comfort in that, and, despite myself, I’d envision his face.

I had many wonderful experiences, received beautiful letters, and my Christian books received substantive and thoughtful reviews. But there was always argument, dispute, questions as to what I "really" believed, lectures from here and there on "the real truth," etc.

Memory was a curse, yes, he thought, but it was also the greatest gift. Because if you lost memory you lost everything.

Words. Borne on the ever swelling current of hatred, like flowers opening in the current, petals peeling back, then falling apart.