I Looked At The Ceiling And Wished

Of All The Questions I'm Asked, The Most Difficult Is, "how Does It Feel To Be Famous?" Since I'm Not, That Question Always Catches Me With A Feeling Of Surrealism....i've Got Three Kids And I've Changed All Their Diapers, And When It's Two O'clock In The Morning And You're Changing Something That's Sort Of Special Delivery With One Eye Open And One Eye Shut You Don't Feel Famous.

Home Is Watching The Moon Rise Over The Open, Sleeping Land And Having Someone You Can Call To The Window, So You Can Look Together. Home Is Where You Dance With Others, And Dancing Is Life.

Rage-the Biggest, Truest Rage Of Her Adult Life-had Invaded Her Like A Fever, But It Wasn't Like Any Fever She Had Known Previously. It Circulated Like Weird Serum, Cold On The Right Side Of Her Body, Then Hot On The Left, Where Her Heart Was. It Seemed To Come Nowhere Near Her Head, Which Remained Clear.

Writers Are Often The Worst Judges Of What They Have Written.

The Essential And Defining Characteristic Of Childhood Is Not The Effortless Merging Of Dream And Reality, But Only Alienation. There Are No Words For Childhood's Dark Turns And Exhalations. A Wise Child Recognizes It And Submits To The Necessary Consequences. A Child Who Counts The Cost Is A Child No Longer.