I Hate Nostalgia, It's Laziness With Prettier

Don't Get Discouraged If You're Hammering Away At A Sentence Or A Paragraph Or A Chapter, And It Keeps Coming Out Wrong. You're Allowed To Get It Wrong, As Many Times As You Need To; You Only Need To Get It Right Once.

We Think About Mortality So Little, These Days, Except To Flail Hysterically At It With Trendy Forms Of Exercise And High-fiber Cereals And Nicotine Patches.

What I Am Telling You, Before You Begin My Story, Is This -- Two Things: I Crave Truth. And I Lie.

The Smell Of The Sea Swept Over The Wall And In Through The Empty Window-hole, Wide And Wild With A Million Intoxicating Secrets. I Don't Trust That Smell. It Hooks Us Somewhere Deeper Than Reason Or Civilization, In The Fragments Of Our Cells That Rocked In Oceans Before We Had Minds, And It Pulls Till We Follow Mindlessly As Rutting Animals....it Lures Us To Leap Off High Cliffs, Fling Ourselves On Towering Waves, Leaves Behind Everyone We Love And Face Into Thousands Of Miles Of Open Water For The Sake Of What Might Be On The Far Shore.

With Acting, You Have To Depend On Somebody Else To Decide If You Are Allowed To Work. You Can Spend Weeks And Months When You Are Not Acting At All.