Far away in the sunshine are my highest aspirations.
I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty,
believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.

They could suddenly jump on you like a hail in an autumn night. They could be slipped by a dear friend into the narrow gap of your apartment's door. Overheard in a cinema screen or a passing-by street conversation. Sometimes, you desperately seek them (in Google or on the pages at Borders) for consolation or affirmation.

They're written for selfish reason, died on cold papers, resurrected by men's pity and women's loneliness, screamed and laughed together with us as a our hearts' overlooked acquaintances.