My father wouldn't let me take typing in childhood.
She had awakened something in him that had slumbered far too long. Not only did he feel passion, he felt the return of hope.
Each divorce is the death of a small civilization.
My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of an indrawn tide.
The fruit tasted foreign but indigenous, like sunlight a tree had changed through patience.
Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.