What about a man who sits down to wonder Why life has cheated him? Thinks about his situation Hangs his head and cries Will we pretend, his problems don't exist? He's reaching out for help-will we selfishly resist? What about your brother? He's crying What about your brother? He's dying What about your brother?

I would lying if I said I would laugh in the face of death.

As children grow, they gravitate to their fates.

Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.

You knew me. You knew that person, but you don't know the person I'm trying to become... You are not your past!

Nothing haunts us like the things we don't say.

I think we've created a system here where only the lifelong politicians, who are used to this kind of life in the spotlight and don't care, or people who have egos along the lines of Donald Trump - who just don't care what people say about them - they're the only people who are ever going to run because nobody wants their life dissected as meanly and as randomly as our media has come to do with anybody who runs for office.