The obituary writers drew their incomplete sketches, touring through his life like travelers to England who do not ever see swans, sheep, bicycles, and blue eyes.

“Music was a chain forged half of silences and half of sound, love was nothing w…”

“In a life, or a portion of a life illuminated, there's a fullness and a balance…”

“Perhaps things are most beautiful when they are not quite real; when you look u…”

“How far do you have to go before you forgive yourself for how you were born?”