Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.

She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.

My father had put these things on the table. I looked at him standing by the sink. He was washing his hands, splashing water on his face. My mamma left us. My brother, too. And now my feckless, reckless uncle had as well. My pa stayed, though. My pa always stayed. I looked at him. And saw the sweat stains on his shirt. And his big, scarred hands. And his dirty, weary face. I remembered how, lying in my bed a few nights before, I had looked forward to showing him my uncle's money. To telling him I was leaving. And I was so ashamed.

I'm wishing he could see that music lives. Forever. That it's stronger than death. Stronger than time. And that its strength holds you together when nothing else can.

Because just for a few seconds, someone else hurts, too. For just a few seconds, I'm not alone.

Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.

History is a Rorschach test, people. What you see when you look at it tells you as much about yourself as it does about the past.