Much Of The Activity We Think Of

At Times ... One Is Downright Thankful For The Self-absorption Of Other People.

Learning When 'enough Is Enough' Is The Discipline Of A Lifetime.

What Did A Few Ripples In The Flesh Matter When, All Too Soon, Now Or Later, That Flesh Would Be Making Its Return Journey To Dust?

During The Act Of Writing I Have Told Myself Something That I Didn't Know I Knew.

There Are Two Kinds Of People. One Kind, You Can Just Tell By Looking At Them At What Point They Congealed Into Their Final Selves. It Might Be A Very Nice Self, But You Know You Can Expect No More Surprises From It. Whereas, The Other Kind Keep Moving, Changing... They Are Fluid. They Keep Moving Forward And Making New Trysts With Life, And The Motion Of It Keeps Them Young. In My Opinion, They Are The Only People Who Are Still Alive. You Must Be Constantly On Your Guard Against Congealing.