. . . crazy world or maybe it's just the view we have of it, looking through a crack in the door, never being able to see the whole room, the whole picture.

I notice when I'm on these trips, I read like mad. It's the only thing that seems to center me, bring me back to remembering who I am. Or forgetting who I am!

People that keep stiff upper lips find that it's hard to smile.

I am also working on a couple of short stories for anthologies. This is new to me and Im enjoying it.

Haven't lost your sense of humor after all but your sense of identity is what seems to have been misplaced. No. Wrong. You don't lose what you never had.

The small seed of despair cracks open and sends experimental tendrils upward to the fragile skin of calm holding him together.

Some people with awful cards can be successful because of how they deal with the tragedies they're handed, and that seems courageous to me.