I Had A Tumor. But It Was

I Am Going To The Bad Place, As Is My Wont.

Simplicity, It Seems, Has Always Been Wasted On Those Who Simply Cannot Appreciate It

One Of The Marks Of A Life Well Lived Has To Be Reaching A State Of Finally Getting It, Of Not Needing More, And Of Being Able To Sign Off With Something Approaching Peace Of Mind.

The Only Thing That Makes One An Artist Is Making Art. And That Requires The Precise Opposite Of Hanging Out; A Deeply Lonely And Unglamorous Task Of Tolerating Oneself Long Enough To Push Something Out.

Well Into Adulthood, Writing Has Never Gotten Easier. It Still Only Ever Begins Badly, And There Are No Guarantees That This Is Not The Day When The Jig Is Finally Up.