But the trek that starts with the feet always rises in time to the head. There had never been any of mankind's that didn't.
A happy childhood can't be cured. Mine'll hang around my neck like a rainbow, that's all, instead of a noose.
Balance is compromise. Of the muscles.
Speech isn't for agony.
Decades go faster toward the end of a century.
First publication is a pure, carnal leap into that dark which one dreams is life.