I Can't Even Trust My Own Imaginary

Your Writing Voice Is The Deepest Possible Reflection Of Who You Are. The Job Of Your Voice Is Not To Seduce Or Flatter Or Make Well-shaped Sentences. In Your Voice, Your Readers Should Be Able To Hear The Contents Of Your Mind, Your Heart, Your Soul.

The Imagination Can Be Dangerous. It Can Change The World. And That Is Why We Write.

The Real Truth Is That The War Didn't Have Much To Do With It Except That It Provided A Perfect Limbo In Which Two People Who Were Too Young And Too Related Could Start Kissing Without Anything Or Anyone Making Us Stop.

A Piano Might Fall On Your Head, He Said, But It Also Might Not. And In The Meantime You Never Know. Something Nice Might Happen.

And Still The Brain Continues To Yearn, Continues To Burn, Foolishly, With Desire. My Old Man's Brain Is Mocked By A Body That Still Longs To Stretch In The Sun And Form A Beautiful Shape In Someone Else's Gaze, To Lie Under A Blue Sky And Dream Of Helpless, Selfless Love, To Behold Itself, Illuminated, In The Golden Light Of Another's Eyes.