"For us, our house is not insentient matter—it has a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it is of us, and we are in its confidence, and live in its grace and in the peace of its benediction. We never come home from an absence that its face does not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we can not enter it unmoved."
—Mark Twain, 1896
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Friday, June 5, 2009

The 'line'

Once upon a time I made a decision that altered me forever. I went toe to line, and cowered. I didn’t have the strength I thought I had to cross over. I remain, to this day, on the safe side of the line. The person you think I am is an illusion. You have grievously misunderstood everything. I do not exist. I am only words.
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