Love isn't soft, like the poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.

This inhuman place makes human monsters.

He found himself still with too many questions and not enough answers.

you will not falter, because you will have the Everlasting Arm of the Lord God of Hosts to lean on. Yes. With God’s help you will stand.

When asked, "How do you write?" I invariably answer, "One word at a time," and the answer is invariably dismissed. But that is all it is. It sounds too simple to be true, but consider the Great Wall of China, if you will: one stone at a time, man. That's all. One stone at a time. But I've read you can see that motherfucker from space without a telescope.

The poets continually and sometimes wilfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer.

But this wealth of information produced little or no insight.