I Believe, In My Better

I Could Teach. I Could Wait Tables. I Could Cook In A Restaurant. Food And Teaching Were The Two Skills I Had.

I Was Starting To Wonder If I Was Ready To Be A Writer, Not Someone Who Won Prizes, Got Published And Was Given The Time And Space To Work, But Someone Who Wrote As A Course Of Life. Maybe Writing Wouldn't Have Any Rewards. Maybe The Salvation I Would Gain Through Work Would Only Be Emotional And Intellectual. Wouldn't That Be Enough, To Be A Waitress Who Found An Hour Or Two Hidden In Every Day To Write?

He Doesn’t Know To Want For More Because Nothing In His Life Has Been As Much As This...on That Night He Thinks That No One Has Ever Had So Much And Only Later Will He Know He Should Have Asked For More.

Love Was Action. It Came To You. It Was Not A Choice.

If Someone Loves You For What You Can Do Then It's Flattering, But Why Do You Love Them? If Someone Loves You For Who You Are Then They Have To Know You, Which Means You Have To Know Them.