We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.
Opinions are like orgasms...mine matters most and I really don't care if you have one.
But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.
It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.
I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.
Why am I obsessed with the idea I can justify myself by getting manuscripts published? Is it an escape-an excuse for any social failure-so I can say "No, I don't go out for many extracurricular activities, but I spend a lot of time writing."