I prefer to have some beliefs that don't make logical sense.
I spend most of my time writing.
Old love, middle love, the kind of love that knows itself and knows that nothing lasts, is a desperate shared wildness.
Death is the least civilized rite of passage.
Things which do not grow and change are dead things.
I stood there in the shadowed doorway thinking with my tears. Yes, tears can be thoughts, why not?