At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon.
Nobody ever became a writer just by wanting to be one.
Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me.
She was beautiful - but especially she was without mercy.
Only remember west of the Mississippi it's a little more look, see, act. A little less rationalize, comment, talk.
It was too late - everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water.