Are you happy?” “Every time I think of him.

We had a little wine, except Jill, because she’s a Christian, which made no sense to me, since Jesus was the one who made wine so popular.

There are so many things we can’t do, places we can’t be ourselves. Here,” his upward glance drew me to the dark tree branches, oaks mostly, canopied above us, “God sees us and likes it.

You’re never gonna give up on me, are you?” “Nope.” “Good.

Face a man with death, let him come out shining, and you might call his bravery simple. Face a small town boy with fame, love, and death, all before legal drinking age, and you will never call his bravery simple.

Face a man with death, let him come out shining, and you might call his bravery simple. Face a small town boy with fame, love, and death, all before legal drinking age, and you will call it anything but simple.

In his eyes, those dazzling near-black eyes, more important to me than our love or lust or friendship, was a look of pure trust.

Like the maji on the hill, I can divinate your presence from afar. And I’ll follow you until I can bring you to a perfect world.” – Deborah Harry, “Accidents Never Happen” [epigram for Message of Love]