Even when love isn't enough...somehow it is.
Hemingway sucks. If I set out to write that way, it would have been been hollow and lifeless because it wasn't me.
"Am I weird?" "Yeah. But so what? Everybody's weird."
Everything in moderation. And that includes a couple of beers a day.
If you were seeing a lot of horseshit, there had to be a pony in the vicinity.
It's funny how close the past is, sometimes. Sometimes it seems as if you could almost reach out and touch it. Only who really wants to?