Things In Life Have No Real Beginning,

He Looks Like The Sort Of Man Who Can't Afford To Leave, And Doesn't Want To Stay, And So He Is Doing Both At Once.

We Shape Ourselves By Our Imaginative Reach.

I Want The Younger Writer To Know That She Or He Is Meaningful, That What They Have To Say Is Powerful In This World. But They Can't Come Indoors, They Can't Close The Curtains, They Can't, Like, Lock Themselves Away From The World And Say Nothing.

This Is Not My Life. These Are Not My Cobwebs. This Is Not The Darkness I Was Designed For.

I Don't Know Of A Greater Privilege Than Being Allowed To Tell A Story, Or To Listen To A Story. They're The Only Thing We Have That Can Trump Life Itself.