Make no mistake, those who write long books have nothing to say. Of course those who write short books have even less to say.

At the heart of any terror is the fear of losing what we find meaningful.

What miracle is this? This giant tree. It stands ten thousand feet high But doesn't reach the ground. Still it stands. Its roots must hold the sky.

Stories heard but not recalled. Letters too. Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad inreparable way.

I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. Probably not even real

Losing the possibility of something is the exact same thing as losing hope and without hope nothing can survive.

Have no fear, you will find your way. It's in your bones. It's in your soul.