Memories have ways of becoming independent of the reality they evoke. They can soften us against those we were deeply hurt by or they can make us resent those we once accepted and loved unconditionally.

The best work of literature to represent the American Dream is 'The Great Gatsby' by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It shows us how dreaming can be tainted by reality, and that if you don't compromise, you may suffer.

The more we die, the stronger we will become

We all had to pay, but not for the crimes we were accused of. There were other scores to settle.

Reality has become so intolerable, she said, so bleak, that all I can paint now are the colors of my dreams.

If I turned towards books, it was because they were the only sanctuary I knew, one I needed in order to survive, to protect some aspect of myself that was now in constant retreat.

I have a recurring fantasy that one more article has been added to the Bill of Rights: the right to free access to imagination.