She was a very light gray, a warm gray, with silvery-gold hair which she changed in style so frequently that no single hairstyle was associated with her consistently except, maybe, "tousled." She had pale gold eyes that shaded anywhere from caramel-yellow to a sort of soft greenish fig color, and everyone said her eyes were wide apart and absolutely arresting. And that she had very fine lips.
Meditations on LoveEdit
- And to touch is like the sound of temple bells.
as the spirit, so the fingers—
as prayer in the mouth,
so the hand on the skin,
as love in the heart,
so the breath in the body,
when it is shared.
To be touch-lovers is to enter the temple.
"The Nine Spokes of the Wheel of Love"Edit
Observations from the End of LifeEdit
Some excerpts, which originally appeared in Black Blossom.
- Some say that we are vessels, and that we must make ourselves empty in order to be filled with all that is good and worthy. That there can be no love without an attempt at perfection of self: that a cracked pot cannot hold, and that this is the reason we have loss and jealousy and fear.
- But I believe that love is the vessel, and we are the thing formed by it. Love is always perfect. If there is loss and jealousy and fear, it is because we have not allowed the pot to shape us, but have in our hubris decided that we know better how to fill the empty spaces.
- Love will break us all: there are no exceptions. So why try to avoid it? There is no use in an unlived life. Best to let it in. Regret nothing, and when the time comes: shatter, shatter into glorious pieces.