The art is in evolving to such a receptive consciousness, which is aligned to enjoyment and fruition in both ways _ expecting and planning the randomizations for __pecific_ joys as well as designing joys in __eneric_ randomizations. True love lands you in a consciousness, which relishes the joys of this rainbowish dualism best.

We're all princes and princesses, at 5, 50, or 100! It's never too late, we're never too old to rock the world and contribute! Reaching for intimacy in all relationships? Delicious.

As you know, human history is full of evil deeds, and maybe we ought to think of them with tears, not fascination.

His hand lay across my stomach as he slept soundly. I entwined my fingers with his and breathed through the warmth that seeped through my chest. Such a simple, sweet thing to do, yet holding hands in bed was incredibly intimate.

But writing is a queer business. If one does anything that is sharp and keep enough to go over the line, to get itself with the work that is taken seriously, one has to have had either an unusual knowledge of or a peculiar sympathy with the characters one handles. One can__ write about what one most admires always__ou must, by some accident, have seen into your character very deeply, and it is this accident of intense realization of him that give your writing about him tone and distinction, that lifts it above the commonplace, in other words

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.