...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...
John Geddes, A Familiar Rain.
“...true love is an irrevocable act - you can only give your heart away once - after that, you give as much as you have left ...”
“...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...”
“...wherever there is society, there is authority and the temptation to disobedience because our individual wills refuse to submit...”
“...no good writing flows from a polluted well - you can write about monsters, but you can't be one...”
“...you think so logically...like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically...like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth...”
“...you fantasize about me reading my poems to you - it doesn't work that way - I write down everything later - living is not an after-thought...”
“I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat; you see Im just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet who loved you with his frozen love, his second hand physique, with all he is and ...”
“When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.”
“Romance is a tender kiss with a lingering promise of more to come.”
“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that youve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you sa...”
“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there i...”
“Im not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. Ive seen a chunk of the universe, true, but theres still so much more to see. I doubt Ill ever cure t...”
“My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,My gentle guide, in following thee.”
“Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmonious...”