The blankets had fallen off and I stared down at her white back, the shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow into wings, poke through that skin. Little blades. She was helpless.

Death is nothing, brother, it's life that's hard

Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live.

the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The Wine of Forever

My part of the game is that I must live the best I can.

I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.

My ambition is handicapped by laziness