a star dies in heaven every time you snatch away someone's dream.

Not only is your story worth telling, but it can be told in words so painstakingly eloquent that it becomes a song.

The right woman is the one you can live with, not the one in your head.

Life is accepting what is and working from that.

The last time you're doing something - knowing you're doing it for the last - makes it even more alive than the first.

We get so caught up in what a man isn't. It's what he is that counts.

Time's passage through the memory is like molten glass that can be opaque or crystalize at any given moment at will: a thousand days are melted into one conversation, one glance, one hurt, and one hurt can be shattered and sprinkled over a thousand days. It is silent and elusive, refusing to be damned and dripped out day by day; it swirls through the mind while an entire lifetime can ride like foam on the deceptive, transparent waves and get sprayed onto the conciousness at ragged, unexpected intervals.