Tyler Kent White

Not everything I write will be a masterpiece; I know that. It is a process selecting words to convey feelings never meant to be spoken. So maybe I’ve been searching for what’s already been said and this is the finest way I can say it. I love you, in everything I am, I love you.

One day I will kiss you, kiss you with lips that understand, kiss you with lips that can better explain, that can speak in so many languages. They will know how to say I love you in ways you have never heard, in ways that sound unlike anything any other man has mouthed before, false promises and fairy tales they did not ever believe in. One day I will kiss you, pressed words between your lips. I will kiss you and they will rattle between your teeth, run down your throat, and fill your lungs. They will echo against your ribs, they will reverberate through your limbs, they will dress every corner you’ve kept sadness hidden away until all that grows inside of you is the understanding that you are enough. One day I will tell you all about my paper napkin theories, algorithms I formed that demonstrate how the sum of all that you are, is greater than infinity, but to me you have always been the one.

You are the fever that never broke, the name stuck in my throat. You are every letter of every word in every poem I ever wrote.

The universe, at any given point, in any given time, is expanding indefinitely in all directions. So trust me when I say, ‘you are the center of mine.’

Would you believe me if I said you were three shades short of all my favorite hues and that I’ve been trying for years to pick words from my garden throat in attempts to explain to you all the things I can’t explain. Or what if I said I have nothing to say other than I love you in the simplest of ways.

Some days, your perfume falls from your skin and settles in the staircase. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stopped on the fourth step and felt all the ways I’ve fallen in love with you.

If you go into a union, they have got you, but what have you got?

I have lived too long to cherish many illusions about the essential high-mindedness of men when brought into stark confrontation with the issue of control over their security, and their property interests.

I hate mankind, for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.

He who is not busy being born is busy dying.

Respect for sovereignity, for privacy, for total independence. Gentle alliances against loneliness, they were, cool rational love-affairs without the love.

Accept the past for what it was. Acknowledge the present for what it is. Anticipate the future for what it can become.

The highest perfection of politeness is only a beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of ungraceful and gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying.

Do you realize if it weren’t for Edison we’d be watching TV by candlelight?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table.

They said eyes are the key to the soul, and after looking into yours, I know you’ve unlocked mine.

I am become death, shatterer of worlds.

If you are not criticized, you may not be doing much.

The world is more malleable than you think and it’s waiting for you to hammer it into shape.

We want to reproduce all those instruments which were prepared and used in America once upon a time.

You get what you ask for in this life. If you ask for nothing, you get nothing.