Sadness Is Very Close To

I Have To Teach Myself Not To Read Too Much Into Everything. It Comes From Too Long Having To Read Into Hardly Anything At All.

He Was A Man Who Wrote, Who Interpreted The World. Wisdom Grew Out Of Being Handed Just The Smallest Sliver Of Emotion. A Glance Could Lead To Paragraphs Of Theory.

What Is Interesting And Important Happens Mostly In Secret, In Places Where There Is No Power. Nothing Much Of Lasting Value Ever Happens At The Head Table, Held Together By A Familiar Rhetoric. Those Who Already Have Power Continue To Glide Along The Familiar Rut They Have Made For Themselves.

People Don't Write About Kids; You Have To Give Them A Lot Of Freedom, And That Causes Anarchy And That Causes Farce.

This Was The Time In Her Life That She Fell Upon Books As The Only Door Out Of Her Cell. They Became Half Her World.