Your music can be played easily and well by any half-stringed harper or fumble-fingered idiot. Not that I'm maligning your songs. It's just that they're an entirely different kettle of fish-to use a seamanly metaphor-to Domick's. Don't you judge your songs against his standard! More people have already listened to your melodies and liked them than will ever hear Domick's, much less like them.

Fear has its uses but cowardice has none.

I think writers need windows on a view to remind them that a whole world is out there, not the minutiae with which they might be dealing on a close scale

To cry was to release all sorts of ugly little pressures and tensions. Like waking out of a long, dark dream to a sun-filled day.

The blackest night must end in dawn, the light dispel the dreamer's fear.

I would recommend the short story form, which is a lot harder to write since you have to be so careful with words, until there is plenty of time to doodle through a novel

Drummer, beat, and piper, blowHarper, strike, and soldier, goFree the flame and sear the grassesTil the dawning Red Star passes