“His eyes, searching deep into mine, felt like danger and safety all rolled into one.”

“Why are you looking at me? His eyes search mine for several long seconds before he holds contact and whispers, " Because I like your face.”

“His lips were soft, warm and felt overwhelmingly right against mine. I fell into it, oblivious to anything other than the safety in his touch. One by one, the senses flowed from me as he pulled them away and set them free. It must have hurt him. The senses hurt the hell out of me..”

“His gaze held mine so long it felt as if he would never release it. And something deep inside me did not want him to.”

“The search for Nirvana, like the search for Utopia or the end of history or the classless society, is ultimately a futile and dangerous one. It involves, if it does not necessitate, the sleep of reason. There is no escape from anxiety and struggle.”

“Then I turned, and lifted up mine eyes, and looked, and beheld a flying roll.”