Everyone Knows How To Talk, And No

I've Committed To Nothing...and That's Just Suicide...by Tiny, Tiny Increments.

You're Not Allowed To Say Anything About Books Because They're Books, And Books Are, You Know, God.

I Had Forgotten That Jess Felt About Long Words The Way That Racists Feel About Black People: She Hated Them, And Wanted To Send Them Back From Where They Came From.

I'd Like My Life To Be Like A Bruce Springsteen Song. Just Once. I Know I'm Not Born To Run, I Know That Seven Sisters' Road Is Nothing Like Thunder Road, But Feelings Can't Be Different, Can They?

The Outward Manifestations Of An Inner Combustion Are Never Very Directed.