The process of giving is without limits.
Somehow the anticipation of pain can be even more troubling, more a misery than the pain itself.
I'm incapable of hiding my feelings when I'm around someone I don't like.
A spider brings good luck before midnight and bad luck after.
Our lives are like these things I make. Turn 'em, build 'em, bake 'em in fire. That's what you've been, son. Baked and fired. But a pot don't have the right to choose whether he be for water, wine, or just left empty. You have, son. You have.
What is a writer of fiction but a liar with a licence?