I thought, frankly, that it would be more pleasant to write a memoir than it was.

Fate has never ladled out hardship very evenly, and this frequently trips our often infantile sense of justice.

The days are stacked against what we think we are.

Poetry at its best is the language your soul would speak if you could teach your soul to speak.

Every day I wonder how many things I am dead wrong about. -- True North

Success and money can really be quite blinding.

Beware, O wanderer, the road is walking too.