It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

Mistakes, mistakes, it's all I seem capable of at times.

She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.

I even move out onto the front porch and see my own limited view of the world. I want to take that world, and for the first time ever, I feel like I can do it. I’ve survived everything I’ve had to so far. I’m still standing here.

As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.

It is early, early morning. It's that time when it's still dark but you know the day is coming. Blue is bleeding through black. Stars are dying.

Because you don't learn anything unless you can find the patience to read. TV takes that away from you. It robs you from your mind.