Love is the white light of emotion.
We humans are obsessed with lights...Perhaps it is our way of hurling the constellations back at the sky.
The great affair, the love affair with life, is to live as variously as possible, to groom one's curiosity like a high-spirited thoroughbred, climb aboard, and gallop over the thick, sunstruck hills every day.
Violets smell like burnt sugar cubes that have been dipped in lemon and velvet.
For if I do something, I never do it thoughtlessly.
A life like an intricately woven basket, frayed, worn, broken, unraveled, reworked, reknit from many of its original pieces... Life can survive in the constant shadow of illness, and even rise to moments of rampant joy, but the shadow remains, and one has to make space for it.