... I to my friends, I to my own heart, to seek among phrases and fragments something unbroken, I to whom there is not enough beauty in moon or tree, to whom the touch of one person with another is all, yet cannot grasp even that, who am so imperfect, so weak, so unspeakably lonely."

That might be wrong. I'm pretty drunk.

GIN. God, I've missed you. ( Read more... )