What men yearn for they often destroy.

Every time someone forgets, someone else disappears,' my brother wrote.

We had to survive to remember. Otherwise everything we were would disappear. Those people we loved would fade as though we'd never loved them, as if they'd never walked and talked and burned, forgetting them was the real evil. That was the hole of darkness.

I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.

Still anyone who trusts a serpent deserves its bite. The wise see a creature for what it is, not what it says it may be.

I wrote to find beauty and purpose, to know that love is possible and lasting and real.... Once I got to my desk, once I started writing, I still believed anything was possible.

What else is there to write about than love and loss?