We write for the same reason that we walk, talk, climb mountains or swim the oceans — because we can. We have some impulse within us that makes us want to explain ourselves to other human beings. That’s why we paint, that’s why we dare to love someone- because we have the impulse to explain who we are. Not just how tall we are, or thin… but who we are internally… perhaps even spiritually. There’s something, which impels us to show our inner-souls. The more courageous we are, the more we succeed in explaining what we know.

Some women let you kiss them while some kissed you back— but just. Others kissed with enthusiasm, but it was with the same kind of enthusiasm they felt for a good meal, a Bette Davis film, or a lovely present they’d just been given. But she was different. She was hungry for you, hungry to kiss you, to hear what you had to say; hungry to tell you what was on her mind. To his mind, this overall hunger was what defined her. It was the greatest compliment he had ever received from a woman and he never grew tired of it.