Maybe to perfect a thing was to destroy it.
You could grow up in the city where history was made and still miss it all.
The key to mostly anything is pretending your first time isn't.
It must be hard to strangle a man using a bow tie. That might be the reason for them.
For so long I'd thought Abraham's legacy was mine: to retreat upstairs, unable or unwilling to sing or fly, only to compile and collect, to sculpt statues of my lost friends, life's real actors, in my Fortress of Solitude.