we were erased and still we loved we were shamed and still we loved we were expelled and still we loved we were laughed at and still we loved we were hunted and still we loved we were sacrificed and still we loved we were marketed and still we loved we were legislated and still we loved we were...

That first breath must be delicious. It must be more tantalizing, more intoxicating than any drug, fragrant like no flower will ever be enticing like no body scent. It must be all of this, and more yet without words or memories, how do we know? That first glorious rush of air wants us to keep...

I must live my own way, Refusing all that binds. I must know my own mind Among all other minds. I must do my own deeds, And in whatever lands. I will know my own hands Among all other hands. I must forsake the crowds, And walk with lonely fools, To seek for my own face In bleak, deserted pools. I...

We never know who we are (this is strange, isn’t it?) or what vows we made or who we knew or what we hoped for or where we were when the world’s dreams were seeded. Until the day just one of us sighs a ­gentle longing and we all feel the change one of us calls a name and we all know to be there...

Here, I will be discovered and lost: Here, I will, perhaps, be stone and silence. —Pablo Neruda Someday, out there, on a day like this in a place I will never see, where the clearing winds always come after the storm, I will arrive nameless on a distant memory carrying with me all the best I gave...