How is it possible to exist with so much pain?

Just hold on. Just for a minute." "Are you all right ?" I found my gaze dropping towards his chair, afraid some part of him was pinched, or trapped, that I had got something wrong. "I'm fine. I just...I don't want to go in just yet. I just want to sit and not have to think about...I just...want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more.

Sometimes, Clark, you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.

I was once told by someone wise that writing is perilous as you cannot always guarantee your words will be read in the spirit in which they were written.

But just as nature abhors a vacuum -- so does the human heart.

But don't blame me for the food. My wife knows a hundred and one ways to incinerate a cow, and as far as I can tell she's still experimenting.

Try to write at least 500 words a day. You may ditch 499 of them tomorrow, but you will still be moving forward.