To get from people you had to give a piece of yourself, a real piece that mattered. Just being nice was not enough.

The words dripped on my consciousness, sank into my being, and carried me away to the magic long ago of once upon a time.

You don't have to be a good person to be a good writer--history shows it's better if you're not--but you have to understand your badness.

To get where you want to go, you can't only do what you like.

They say life is all about connecting, like that's a good thing. But when brain and eyes are lining up you know different.

What do you get out of hating people, out of having this bitterness in your heart always?

Many have changed so much that they have lost the magic of the dream that carried them on their own bootstraps.