Who was blowing on the nape of my neck?

Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible.

I hear my father-in-law's response..."Naïve, dreaming Adam. He who would do battle with the many-headed hydra of human nature must pay a world of pain & his family must pay it along with him! & only as you gasp your dying breath shall you understand, your life amounted to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean!" Yet what is any ocean but a multitude of drops?

The music provokes a sharp longing the music soothes.

I feel like something important has happened to me. Is this possible?

The human world is made of stories, not people. The people the stories use to tell themselves are not to be blamed

Dreams are all I have ever truly owned.