Writing is a hellish task, best snuck up on, whacked on the head, robbed and left for dead.

Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain.

They are so young, they forget that the world is not as in love with them as they are.

You think you're safe. Until you see a picture like that. And then you know you'll always be a slave to the present because the present is more powerful than the past, no matter how long ago the present happened.

Piece by piece living is hard to do. It may even feel like the hardest thing. But it has this going for it: you never need to know what it is you're carrying on your shoulders.

Writing is a hellish task, best snuck up on, whacked on the head, robbed and left for dead.

There are some stories you can't hear enough. They are the same every time you hear them. But you are not. That's one reliable way of understanding time.