All I can do is believe.
Gonna watch it all burn
Love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, It will set you free Be more like the man you were made to be. There is a design, An alignment to cry, At my heart you see, The beauty of love as it was made to be
Detroit
Bandana
She sat in the audience thinking—someone here has cancer, someone has a broken heart, someone’s soul is lost, someone feels naked and foreign, thinks they once knew the way but can’t remember the way, feels stripped of armor and alone, there are people in this audience with broken bones, others whose bones will break sooner or later, people who’ve ruined their health, worshipped their own lies, spat on their dreams, turned their backs on their true beliefs, yes, yes, and all will be saved. All will be saved. All will be saved.
—Denis Johnson, writer, Tree of Smoke
