How old do you have to get before wisdom descends like a plastic bag over your head and you learn to keep your big mouth shut? Maybe never. Maybe you get more frivolous with age.

I have long since decided if you wait for the perfect time to write, you'll never write. There is no time that isn't flawed somehow.

No mother is ever, completely, a child's idea of what a mother should be, and I suppose it works the other way around as well. But despite everything, we didn't do too badly by one another, we did as well as most.

Though as he'd say, what is 'belief' but a willingness to suspend the negatives?

What we share may be a lot like a traffic accident but we get one another. We are survivors of each other. We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something.

What a lost person needs is a map of the territory, with his own position marked on it so he can see where he is in relation to everything else.

Some cleric putting a match to her. /Neither of them looks happy about it. /Once lit, she'll burn like a book, /like a book that was ever finished, /like a locked-up library.