How you're still always trapped. How your head is the cave, your eyes the cave mouth. How you live inside your head and only see what you want. How you only watch the shadows and make up your own meaning.

I was tired and crazy and rushed, and every time I boarded a plane, I wanted the plane to crash. I envied people dying of cancer. I hated my life. I was tired and bored with my job and my furniture, and I couldn’t see any way to change things. Only end them.

What's burning down is a re-creation of a period revival house patterned after a copy of a copy of a copy of a mock Tudor big manor house. It's a hundred generations removed from anything original, but the truth is aren't we all?

No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide.

We'll be remembered more for what we destroy than what we create.

What they don't teach you in art school is how your whole life is about discovering who you already were.

You can tell a more over-the-top incredible story if you use a nonfiction form.