I wish I could say everything in one word. I hate all the things that can happen between the beginning of a sentence and the end.

Maybe there's a God above, As for me, all I've ever seemed to learn from love Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you. Yeah but it's not a complaint that you hear tonight, It's not the laughter of someone who claims to have seen the light No it's a cold and it's a very lonely Hallelujah.

We are so lightly here. It is in love that we are made. In love we disappear.

Ah, grief makes us precise!

I always considered myself a minor writer. My province is small, and I try to explore it very, very thoroughly.

As I grew older, I understood that instructions came with this voice. What were these instructions? The instructions were never to lament casually. And if one is to express the great inevitable defeat that awaits us all, it must be done within the strict confines of dignity and beauty.

You can keep the body as well-oiled and receptive as possible, but whether you're actually going to be able to go for the long haul is really not your own choice.