The Great Teachers Fill You Up With

The Only Way I Could Endure Being A Coward Was If I Was The Only One Who Knew It.

Basketball Allowed Me To Revere My Father Without Him Knowing What I Was Up To. I Took Up Basketball As A Form Of Homage And Mimicry.

When Men Talk About The Agony Of Being Men, They Can Never Quite Get Away From The Recurrent Theme Of Self-pity. And When Women Talk About Being Women, They Can Never Quite Get Away From The Recurrent Theme Of Blaming Men.

My Wound Is Geography. It Is Also My Anchorage, My Port Of Call.

Why Do They Not Teach You That Time Is A Finger Snap And An Eye Blink, And That You Should Not Allow A Moment To Pass You By Without Taking Joyous, Ecstatic Note Of It, Not Wasting A Single Moment Of Its Swift, Breakneck Circuit?