Grief, He Said, Is Carnivorous.

Charm Was The Luxury Of Those Who Still Believed In The Essential Rightness Of Things. In Purity And Picket Fences.

He Wondered If This Was What Clinical Depression Felt Like, A Total Numbness, A Weary Lack Of Hope.

There Are Threads In Our Lives. You Pull One, And Everything Else Gets Affected.

I Was Not Going To Use Writing For Advertising Or Journalism. I Would Tend Bar, Load Trucks, Chauffeur - Do Whatever It Took. But From The Moment I Took My First Writing Workshop, I Was A Writer.

Grief, I Swear To God, Doesn't Live In The Heart. It Lives In The Senses. And Sometimes, All I Want To Do Is Cut Off My Nose So I Can't Smell Her, Hack My Fingers Off At The Joint.