Words Are Good For Saying

How Inevitable It Is; We Step Into An Ordinary Moment And Never Come Out Again.

The Thing About Love Is That We Come Alive In Bodies Not Our Own.

Long Ago, Long Ago. The Simple Things Come Back To Us. They Rest For A Moment By Our Ribcages Then Suddenly Reach In And Twist Our Hearts A Notch Backward.

It Is Not Fashionable Anymore, I Suppose, To Have A Regard For One's Mother In The Way My Brother And I Had Then, In The Mid-1950s, When The Noise Outside The Window Was Mostly Wind And Sea Chime.

Goodness Was More Difficult Than Evil. Evil Men Knew That More Than Good Men. That's Why They Became Evil. That's Why It Stuck With Them. Evil Was For Those Who Could Never Reach The Truth. It Was A Mask For Stupidity And Lack Of Love. Even If People Laughed At The Notion Of Goodness, If They Found It Sentimental, Or Nostalgic, It Didn't Matter -- It Was None Of Those Things, He Said, And It Had To Be Fought For.