“...you think so logically...like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically...like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth...”

“Someone once told me that children are like kites. You struggle just to get them in the air; they crash; you add a longer tail. Then they get caught in a tree; you climb up and bring them down, and untangle the string; you run to get them aloft again. Finally, the kite is airborne, and it flies higher and higher, as you let out more string, until it's so high in the sky, it looks like a bird. And if the string snaps, and you've done your job right, the kite will continue to soar in the wind, all by itself.”

“I was a kite miles out to sea. I was soaring without a string.”

“Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails.”

“I can soar like an eagle even though logics dictate otherwise”

“How do you feel right now?" "I hurt like hell.""You'll feel worse tomorrow.""So?""So, better get a jump on this while you still feel...not as bad.""What kind of logic is that?" I retorted.”