“...with white dawns and glaring moons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”

“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”

“But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.”

“But, true, I’ve wept too much! Dawns break hearts./ Every moon is brutal, every sun bitter.”

“A statement made from the heart has an aroma, it has lights, it has earth andsun and moon. It is colorful and it grasps the attention of those around you,like the sunset.”

“Your mom is my sunset, and you are my dawn.”