Together in our house, in the firelight, we are the world made small.
When you can write music that endures, bravo. Until then, keep quiet and study the work of those who can.
But his words fall away. He looks confused. He looks flustered and sorry. Like you do when you run up to someone you think you know and take her arm and she turns around and you were wrong.
But words are more powerful than anything.
I struggled for a long time to get anything published.
A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.