The brain within its groove The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, T'were easier for you To put the water back When floods have slit the hills, And scooped a turnpike for themselves, And blotted out the mills! Emily Dickinson, The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson insanitymind
You are what you love Donald: I loved Sarah, Charles. It was mine, that love. I owned it. Even Sarah didn't have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want. Charlie: But she thought you were pathetic. Donald: That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That's what I decided a long time ago. lovemelancholy