I Found That I Could Write Two

The Ornament Of Beauty, Shakespeare Wrote, Is Suspect. And He Was Right. But Beauty Itself, Unadorned And Unaffected, Is Sacred, I Think, Worthy Of Our Awe And Our Loyalty.

The World According To Bubba Is Simple - If It Aggravates You, Stop It. By Whatever Means Necessary.

Visitation Street Is Urban Opera Writ Large. Gritty And Magical, Filled With Mystery, Poetry And Pain, Ivy Pochoda’s Voice Recalls Richard Price, Junot Diaz, And Even Alice Sebold, Yet It’s Indelibly Her Own.

Charm Was The Luxury Of Those Who Still Believed In The Essential Rightness Of Things. In Purity And Picket Fences.

I Believe In God. Maybe Not The Catholic God Or Even The Christian One Because I Have A Hard Time Seeing Any God As Elitist. I Also Have A Hard Time Believing That Anything That Created Rain Forests And Oceans And An Infinite Universe Would, In The Same Process, Create Something As Unnatural As Humanity In Its Own Image. I Believe In God, But Not As A He Or She Or An It, But As Something That Defines My Ability To Conceptualize Within The Rather Paltry Frames Of Reference I Have On Hand.