She looks like a woman who has found it ridiculous to commit herself to a single emotional stance in anything, but must always ride high heavy irony.
I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
Opinions are like orgasms...mine matters most and I really don't care if you have one.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.
Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?
I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!