So Plato talked about these beings that used to exist that had four legs and four arms and two heads. They were totally self-contained and ecstatic and powerful. Too powerful, so Zeus cut them all in half and scattered all the halves around the world so that humans were doomed to forever look for their other half, the one who shared their very soul. Only the luckiest humans find their split-apart, you see.
People think people are in charge, but they’re wrong; it’s the trees.
I’m thinking the reason I’ve been so quiet all those years is only because Brian wasn’t around yet for me to tell everything to.
No woman can resist a man who has tidal waves and earthquakes beneath the skin.
If you’re going through hell, keep going.” – Winston Churchill.
In a flash, we’re through the door, across the street and into the woods, running for no reason and laughing for no reason and totally out of breath and out of our minds when Brian catches me by my shirt, whips me around, and with one strong hand flat against my chest, he pushes me against a tree and kisses me so hard I go blind.
I watch him throw his head back in supreme happiness, like he’s hearing that he gets to choose the colors for all the sunsets from now on.
Yes, so if God can have two tries, why not us? Or three or three hundred tries.
I remember Guillermo saying the cracks and breaks were the best and most interesting parts of the work in my portfolio. Perhaps it’s the same with people and their cracks and breaks.
I’m filled with something I can only describe as recognition. Not because he looks familiar on the outside this time, but because he feels familiar on the inside.
Our eyes meet and hold, and the world starts to fall away, time does, years rolling up like rugs, until everything that’s happened unhappens, and for a moment, it’s us again, more one than two.
She’s a people-mechanic and always knows when I’m malfunctioning.
Portrait: The Boy with All the Keys in the World with All the Locks.
To draw you must close your eyes and sing.
It was right and wrong both. Love does as it undoes. It goes after, with equal tenacity, joy and heartbreak.
It occurs to me that Jude does this too, changes who she is depending on who she’s with. They’re like toads changing their skin color. How come I’m always just me?
Jude is my favorite of all the saints,” he says. “Patron saint of lost causes. The saint to call on when all hope is gone. The one in charge of miracles.
And some thoughts once thought are very hard to unthink.
It kicks the breath out of me, kicks bright light into me.
I have an allergy to catching and throwing and kicking and dribbling of any kind. Noah is not a team player. Well, duh. Revolutionaries aren’t team players.