and then woe is you, Pauly. Woe to the max.
If you liked being a teenager, there's something really wrong with you.
Now panic beats and flutters inside my skull like a flock of starlings locked in an attic.
They say that loving eyes can never see, but that's a fool's axiom. Sometimes, they see too much
You cannot condemn a man for what may only be a figment of your own imagination.
I understand from my own work that haste makes waste. But I also understand that ... the creative spark dims, and then death puts it out. William Shakespeare, for instance, hasn’t produced a new play for 400 years. That, my friends, is a long dry spell.