A man who can laugh at himself is truly blessed, for he will never lack for amusement.
James Carlos BlakeThe shed of leaves became a cascade of red and gold and after a time the trees stood skeletal against a sky of weathered tin. The land lay bled of its colors. The nights lengthened, went darker, brightened in their clustered stars. The chilled air smelled of wood smoke, of distances and passing time. Frost glimmered on the morning fields. Crows called across the pewter afternoons.
James Carlos BlakeIf youโre afraid to defend your convictions because you might get your ass kicked for it, youโre not really fit to advocate for them.
James Carlos Blake