“If a billowy white cloud exploded, that’d be close to what my love looks like. The only difference is my love has more precipitation.”

“My hope is that what has gone before is only the introductory chapter of our love story. There are more memories to be made. ~ Ian”

“During the nuit blanche I think: Henry, my love, I can love you better now that you cannot hurt me. I can love you more gaily. More loosely. I can endure space and distance and betrayals. Only the best, the best and the strongest. Henry, my love, the wanderer, the artist, the faithless one who has loved me so well. Believe me, nothing has changed in me toward you except my courage. I cannot walk with one love ever. My head is strong, my head, but to walk, to walk into love I need miracles, the miracles of excess, and white heat, and two-ness! Lie here, breathing into my hair, over my neck. No hurt will come from me. No criticalness, no judgment. I bear you in my womb.”

“The one close to me now,even my own body-these toowill soon become clouds,floating in different directions.”

“If everything that looks like love really were love, my God, this would be a different and better world and even the darkest nightmares would be followed by unbearably happy days.”

“The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity - it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possesive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.”