Love doesn't die; the men and women do.
Only the peak feels so sound and stable that the beginning of the falling is hidden for a little while.
The past is never dead. It's not even past.
When I was a boy I first learned how much better water tastes when it has set a while in a cedar bucket. Warmish-cool, with a faint taste like the hot July wind in Cedar trees smells.
Pointless. . . . Like giving caviar to an elephant.
I took out my watch and listened to it clicking away, not knowing it couldn't even lie