Succotash My Balzac, Dipshiitake.

I Tried The Key In All The Doors, Even Though He Said He Didn't Recognize It. It's Not That I Didn't Trust Him, Becuase I Did. It's That At The End Of My Search I Wanted To Be Able To Say: I Don't Know How I Could Have Tried Harder.

What Were We Spending So Much Time Doing If Not Getting To Know Each Other?

The Writing Itself Is No Big Deal. The Editing, And Even More Than That, The Self-doubt, Is Excruciatingly Impossible.

People Who Become Used To Saying Little Become Used To Feeling Little.

I Ran Rather Than Walked, Anxious To Lose My Way. All I Wanted Was To Be Unsure.