“Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.”

"Sorry I can't, I'm busy"

“So much of the pain of loneliness is to do with concealment, with feeling compelled to hide vulnerability, to tuck ugliness away, to cover up scars as if they are literally repulsive. But why hide? What’s so shameful about wanting, about desire, about having failed to achieve satisfaction, about experiencing unhappiness? Why this need to constantly inhabit peak state, or to be comfortably sealed inside a unit of two, turned inwards from the world at large?”

“I’d like to be with you now. To lose myself looking at you, to forget myself; this would be the longed-for rest. I’m so lonely now - and you know that you’re my sun. You must never set when around me.”

“If someone asked me “What are the signs of love?” I would have said without hesitation, It’s the familiarity and the removal of cost, And to find yourself not having to lie, and the embarrassment removed between you two, and see yourself acting in your nature without trying to be something else so she likes you, And that you two keep silent and the silence gets delicious, And that one of you two talk and listening gets delicious.”

“I want to love you wildly. I don’t want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.”