Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality – there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand? Here is the truth – actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.

I've noticed that, while I can't help but respect and sort of envy the moral nerve of people who truly do not care what others think of them, people like this also make me nervous, and I tend to do my admiring from a safe distance.

You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't.

It looks like you can write a minimalist piece without much bleeding. And you can. But not a good one.

The sun like a sneaky keyhole view of hell.

CPR to those elements of what’s human and magical that still live and glow despite the times’ darkness.

How totally banal of you to ask what I really mean.