She Didn't Even Have To Smile, And

Heaven Is Comfort, But It's Still Not Living.

I Mean, If I Went Into My Closet, I Could Find A Previous Draft And Try To Figure That Out, But It Takes A Long Time For Me To Find The Voice To Tell A Story In. I Was Working From Other Points Of View For A Couple Years There.

It's Very Weird To Succeed At Thirty-nine Years Old And Realize That In The Midst Of Your Failure, You Were Slowly Building The Life That You Wanted Anyway.

My Father Had Not Been Outside The House Except To Drive Back And Forth To Work Or Sit Out In The Backyard, For Months, Nor Had He Seen His Neighbors. Now He Looked At Them, From Face To Face, Until He Realized I Had Been Loved By People He Didn't Even Recognize. His Heart Filled Up, Warm Again As It Had Not Been In What Seemed So Long To Him- Save Small Forgotten Moments With Buckley, The Accidents Of Love That Happened With His Son. ~pgs 209-210; Buckley, Lindsey And Jack On Susie

Each Time I Told My Story, I Lost A Bit, The Smallest Drop Of Pain. It Was That Day That I Knew I Wanted To Tell The Story Of My Family. Because Horror On Earth Is Real And It Is Every Day. It Is Like A Flower Or Like The Sun; It Cannot Be Contained.