“Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.”
“He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full.”
“Another sound followed them long after these had faded, followed them into morning on a strange road – the tiny dry sound of a spider weeping.”
These flabbergast me. He thought, or said, or sang … yes. Yes.