Why yes, I do have a very eclectic taste. XDD


Things Jeanette Winterson writes on her website:

So what is the answer? Is identity a deceit, a make-shift, and should we hurry to make any pattern we can? Or is there coherence, perhaps a beauty, if it were possible to find it? I would like to convince myself about myself but I cannot...

In between freezing and melting. In between love and despair. In between fear and sex, passion is.

What is it that you contain? The dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia opening in your gut. Your first parent was a star...


-- I have just... fallen in love with that woman all over again. Or remembered, with full force, that I love her. Because I really, really do.


( And here's a poem by Szymborska (who has done horrible things to my poetry-writing skills*), which Jeanette Winterson has posted on her website, too )