It’s a rule that we never listen to sad music, we made that rule early on, songs are as sad as the listener, we hardly ever listen to music.

Sadness of love without release.

....Worthy would-be worlds of words, whorls of working wonder.

It would be refreshing to have a politician try to defend guns without any reference to the Second Amendment, but on the merits of guns.

She was not crying Which surprised me very much But I understand now That she had found places For her melancholy That were behind more masks Than only her eyes

In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York is in heavy boots.

It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.