He who leaps for the sky may fall, it's true. But he may also fly.

Now I'd rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.

Something aches at the very core of me, something ancient and deep and stronger than words: the filament that joins each of us to the root of existence, that ancient thing unfurling and resisting and grappling, desperately, for a foothold, a way to stay here, breathe, keep going.

my wild, uncured, erratic, incomprehensible heart.

No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.

I loved to be alone in the woods, especially in the late fall when everything is crisp and golden, the leaves the color of fire, and it smells like things turning into earth. I loved the silence - the only sound the steady drum of the hooves and the horse's breathing.

Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.