“The past is fractal premonition, infinite to the eye but nothing to be built on . . .” — Lawrence Krauser Copy Share Image
“A low thrum in his gut. Love. What is the measure of such a thing? Love, or the word love, is like an elusive… — Lawrence Krauser Copy Share Image
There was a time when our desire for each other would have landed us in an asylum or prison, had it not been sanctioned… — Lawrence Krauser Copy Share Image
“The past is fractal premonition, infinite to the eye but nothing to be built on . . .” — Lawrence Krauser Copy Share Image
