Sublime

(the people we call great writers are in the end merely people who’ve known how to manipulate the butterfly nets required to catch their own flightiest, airiest, shyest thoughts).

Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee.

alive. And so we read this, my darling, this book she wrote for you before she left, its ornate words and elaborate illustrations telling fairy tales that will grow as you grow, an apologia, a bundle of letters home, and a map of the uncharted waters of our souls. There are many ways to say I love you in this cold, dark, silent universe, as many as

There is no boat to bring you through the dark ocean of your anguished body…but your body itself. Storm and vessel are the same.

Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. I am who I am, doing what I came to do, acting upon you like a drug or a chisel to remind you of your me-ness, as I discover you in myself.

and she walked through the world as if she were alone, as if she might always be alone.

I like the thought that what I seek will be discovered if only I can withstand what others cannot, that pain has purpose, that I’m not lost, but just on the harder path.

subservient

and friends.