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"He did not know why he was so irrationally happy, for nothing had changed in his life or hers. He had not even touched the tip of her fingers or looked her full in the eyes. But their evening together had given him a vision of what life at her side might be, and he was glad now that he had done nothing to trouble the sweetness of the pircture. He had a fancy that she knew what had restrained him..." (Wharton 56)

Sometimes, a cup of coffee, a guitar, and a breezy day makes everything seem alright.
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You Wouldn't Last a Minute
posted on Monday, December 8, 2008 @ 4:17 PM
I've got a picture of you and me
and it's taped to the mirror so you can
...see all right.

"Christmas is coming"
"Cool, I hate Christmas"

The brain's a funny thing.
A big mass of grey matter.
Dull as anything else.
And yet, in that blob of matter, there's everything.
I mean, everything.
All those cute little songs you wrote, every thought you'd ever though, and everything you're not fully conscious of.
15 years, and I still cannot figure out how it works.
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