A Lot Of People Think That Writers

Sometimes We Just Walk Into Something That Is Not For Us At All. We Pretend It Is. We Think We Can Shrug It Off Like A Coat, But It's Not A Coat At All, It's More Like Another Skin. [...] All I Wanted Was To Make My Life Thrilling For A While: To Take The Oridinary Objects Of My Days And Make A Different Argument Out Of Them, No Obligations To My Past.

I Guess This Is What Marriage Is, Or Was, Or Could Be. You Drop The Mask. You Allow The Fatigue In. You Lean Across And Kiss The Years Because They're The Things That Matter.

Let It Be. Silly Song, Really. You Let It Be, It Returns. There's The Truth. You Let It Be, It Drags You To The Ground. You Let It Be, It Crawls Up Your Walls.

What Corrigan Wanted Was A Fully Believable God, One You Could Find In The Grime Of The Everyday... He Consoled Himself With The Fact That, In The Real World, When He Looked Closely Into The Darkness He Might Find The Presence Of A Light, Damaged And Bruised, But A Little Light All The Same. He Wanted, Quite Simply, For The World To Be A Better Place, And He Was In The Habit Of Hoping For It.

So Much Of Her Time Spent Like This: Dreaming Up Things To Say And Never Quite Saying Them.