I have nothing against the smell of rot but something against what hides the smell of rot in the United States of America.

A baby is expected. A trip is expected. News is expected. Forgetfulness is expected. An invitation is expected. Hope is expected. But memories are not expected. They just come.

Only what is fated to die is capable of living. Only what dies lives.

I have nothing against the smell of rot but something against what hides the smell of rot in the United States of America.

Nativity is the enemy of prophecy.

Metaphors and Similes are the beginning of the democratic system of envy.

If you want to know what love is, have a child. If you want to know what pain is, bury him.