...When someone quotes the old poetic image about clouds gradually uncovering the moon, slowly loosen, knot by knot, the strings of your robe.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead, don't try to explain the miracle. Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means to die for love, point here.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, then returns. When someone doesn't believe that, walk back into my house.
When lovers moan, they're telling our story.