the redness had seeped from the day and night was arranging herself around us. Cooling things down, staining and dyeing the evening purple and blue black.

Regrets don't help anything.

I grew up in the American South and came of age in the 1960s, an incredibly turbulent time. It was as if the seams of American life were being ripped apart with riots and protests.

I don't remember what they said, only the fury of their words, how the air turned raw and full of welts. Later it would remind me of birds trapped inside a closed room, flinging themselves against the windows and the walls, against each other.

Sometimes you want to fall on your knees and thank God in heaven for all the poor news reporting that goes on in the world.

What matters is giving over to what you love.

Actually, you can be bad at something...but if you love doing it, that will be enough. - August Boatwright