But We Can't Go Back. We Can

Clothing Left On The Bed Unfolded. Books Stained With Coffee Spots. Tabs Not Paid Until The Last Possible Second. Boys Kissed And Then Forgotten In A Week’s Time.

...i Do Have To Wonder What Sort Of Childhood The Grimm Brothers Endured. They Are Not A Merry Bunch Of Storytellers, What With Their Children Roasted By Witches, Maidens Poisoned By Old Crones, And Whatnot.

I Had A Friend Who Said, "you Don't Have An Internal Critic. You Have An Internal Sadist."

I Told Myself It Was The Snow—she Couldn’t Possibly Get To Philadelphia On The Roads. I Told Myself A Hundred Lies. Children Do That. It’s Amazing The Sorts Of Things You’ll Make Yourself Believe.

He Said To Tell You To Remember Your Heart In All Things, That It Is Where Your Honor And Your Destiny Will Be Found. Does It Mean Anything To You?' It Is Something He Would Say From Time To Time-that The Eye Could Be Misled, But That The Heart Was True.