love

• It’s lack of love you die from
• no toeholds for love. we are two-legged wombs, thats all; sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices
• I said I was in love. She said that was no excuse. Moira was always more rational than I am.
• I have no rose  to toss, he has no lute. But it’s the same kind of hunger.
• It was the central thing; it was the way you understood yourself; if it never happened to you, not ever, you would be like a mutant, a creature from outer space.
• love, like Heaven, was always just around the corner
• to keep the core of yourself out of reach, enclosed, protected.
• All I can hope for is a reconstruction: the way love feels is always only approximate