Then she kissed me and I realized she probably was right, there must be fifty ways to leave your lover.

And you read your emily dickinson, And I my robert frost. And we note our place with bookmarkers That measure what weve lost.

These are the days of miracle and wonder.

I met my old lover on the street last night, she seemed glad to see me.

Serious numbers will speak to us always.

When I look back at all the crap I learned in high school, it's a wonder I can think at all.

Philip Larkin didn't write for several years before his life ended. And when he was asked why he didn't write, he said the muse deserted him. And when I read that, it really had a profound effect upon me, sort of scared me. So that's why I think I have no right to assume that some thought is going to come... But I think, in my imagination, if it is it, there will probably be something else I'm interested in.