Guilty she might be. But what human being was not? There were things in her past she needn't be ashamed of, things to be proud of; she wouldn't surrender so meekly to a condemning judgment.

We are all dying of life.

No writer should minimize the factor that affects everyone, but is beyond control: luck.

The pain comes from knowing that we have never been safe, and therefore will never be safe again. It comes from knowing we can never be so ignorant again. It comes from knowing we can never be children again. Losing innocence. Remembering heaven. That was the essence of hell.

Going after anything worthwile in life entailed risk, of course. A man of ambition and courage didn't let that stop or delay him. A man accepted the dangers, the element of chance. If he didn't, he won nothing.

Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish.

Spend as much time as you can with your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open.