Distance might not solve anything, no matter how far you run.

Like you're riding a train at night across some vast plain, and you catch a glimpse of a tiny light in a window of a farmhouse. In an instant it's sucked back into the darkness behind and vanishes. But if you close your eyes, that point of light stays with you, just barely for a few moments.

No matter what form the relationship might take, he was the only person she could picture sharing her life with.

It's basically impossible for everybody's justice to prevail or everybody's happiness to triumph, so chaos takes over.

My priority is my books, at least at this point. What I have to do is write the narrative of this time.

Each of us possesses a tangible living soul. The system has no such thing. We must not allow the system to exploit us.

I just wanted to write something about running, but I realized that to write about my running is to write about my writing. It's a parallel thing in me.