O friendship, I too will press flowers between the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets!

It doesn't have to be the truth, just your vision of it, written down.

O friendship, I too will press flowers between the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets!

I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.

Why is life so tragic; so like a little strip of pavement over an abyss. I look down; I feel giddy; I wonder how I am ever to walk to the end.

My notion's to think of the human beings first and let the abstract ideas take care of themselves.

Life would split apart without letters.