The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes.

God, why does a mortal man have children? It is senseless to love anything this much.

Shoes would interfere with her conversation, for she constantly addresses the ground under her feet. Asking forgiveness. Owning, disowning, recanting, recharting a hateful course of events to make sense of her complicity. We all are, I suppose. Trying to invent our version of the story. All human odes are essentially one, "My life; what I stole from history, and how I live with it.

In a world as wrong as this one, all we can do is make things as right as we can.

The past is all we know of the future.

Downstream is always someone else's up.

Literature sucks you into another psyche. So the creation of empathy necessarily influences how you'll behave to other people.