Anytime You Write About Priests

Home, Bed, Sleep, Mother--who Knew More Beautiful Words Than These?

There Was No Time For Kissing But She Wanted Him To Know That In The Future There Would Be. A Kiss In So Much Loneliness Was Like A Hand Pulling You Up Out Of The Water, Scooping You Up From A Place Of Drowning And Into The Reckless Abundance Of Air. A Kiss, Another Kiss.

You Can't Always Trust What You Think, What You Know ... But You Can Always Trust Your Nature.

The Tricky Thing About Being A Writer, Or About Being Any Kind Of Artist, Is That In Addition To Making Art You Also Have To Make A Living.

There Can Be Something Cruel About People Who Have Had Good Fortune. They Equate It With Personal Goodness.