Serious numbers will speak to us always.
You know, life is what you make of it- so beautiful or so what.
Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
The leaves that are green turn to brown. And they wither with the wind. And they crumble in your hand.
There is a moment, a chip in time, when leaving home is the lesser crime.
The words come. Usually, it's a long time before they come. And then when they start to come, it doesn't take so long for it to be finished. It takes a long time to begin. And then it sort of gets finished.