You don’t think ahead in years or months: you think about this hour, and maybe the next. Anything else is speculation.

Years bleach away the sense of things until all that's left is a bone-white past, stripped of feeling and significance.

We live with the decisions we makeThat’s what bravery is. Standing by the consequences of your mistakes.

Right and wrong can be like bloody snakes: so tangled up that you can't tell which is which until you've shot 'em both, and then it's too late.

That's how life goes on - protected by the silence that anesthetizes shame.

Once a child gets into your heart, there’s no right or wrong about it.

When he wakes sometimes from dark dreams of broken cradles, and compasses without bearings, he pushes the unease down, lets the daylight contradict it. And isolation lulls him with the music of the lie.