In the third grade, a nun stuffed me in a garbage can under her desk because she said that's where I belonged. I also had the distinction of being the only altar boy knocked down by a priest during mass.
Use it, Rosie, that's what it's there for.
It's always felt natural, because I'm generally very comfortable with people.
We all have stories we're living and telling ourselves.
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true? Or is it something worse?
Everybody's got a hungry heart.