I Know That There Are

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

From My Table Inside I Watch The Glamorous Women Outside Who Are Lunching On Spa Cobb Salads Without Blue Cheese Or Dressing. The Man With The Bread Basket Wanders From Table To Table, Lonesome As A Cloud. When He Comes To Me His Basket Is Full And Perfectly Arranged. He Gives Me A Smile Of Sincere Pleasure When I Tell Him I Will Take Both The Sourdough Roll And The Cheese Stick.

I Believe That, More Than Anything Else, This Grief Of Constantly Having To Face Down Our Own Inadequacies Is What Keeps People From Being Writers. Forgiveness, Therefore, Is Key. I Can't Write The Book I Want To Write, But I Can And Will Write The Book I Am Capable Of Writing. Again And Again Throughout The Course Of My Life I Will Forgive Myself.

He Realized Now He Was Only Just Beginning To See The Full Extent To Which It Was His Destiny To Follow, To Walk Blindly Into Fates He Could Never Understand. In Fate There Was Reward, In Turning Over One's Heart To God There Was A Magnificence That Lay Beyond Description. At The Moment One Is Sure That All Is Lost, Look At What Is Gained!

Just Because Things Hadn't Gone The Way I Had Planned Didn't Necessarily Mean They Had Gone Wrong.