People Forget The Good, Because The Bad

This So Gnawed At Him On Some Nights That He Lay Awake Wondering Just How Many Unknown And Similarly Inconsequential Accidents And Bits Of Happenstance Were At This Moment Occurring Or Failing To Occur In Order To Ensure He Took His Next Breath, And The Next.

There Are People Who Are Always, I Think, Going To Remain People Of The Book, To Use Another Author's Title, But People Of The Book, Who Really Must Be Around.

Our Songs Travel The Earth. We Sing To One Another. Not A Single Note Is Ever Lost And No Song Is Original. They All Come From The Same Place And Go Back To A Time When Only The Stones Howled.

To Love Another Another Human In All Of Her Splendor And Imperfect Perfection , It Is A Magnificent Task...tremendous And Foolish And Human.

It Kills Your Writing If You Try To Manipulate It With Crude Politics.