The Hard Thing About Death Is That

I Figure Guys Are Like Whitman's Samplers. I Like To Take A Little Bite Out Of Each And Then Move On Before The Whole Box Gets Stale.

Emotion Doesn't Travel In A Straight Line. Like Water, Our Feelings Trickle Down Through Cracks And Crevices, Seeking Out The Little Pockets Of Neediness And Neglect, The Hairline Fractures In Our Character Usually Hidden From Public View.

All Of Us Are Subjected To Somebody Else's Power At Some Point. So Once In A While You Kiss Ass. So What? Either You Make Your Peace With That Early, Or You End Up Living Your Life As A Crank And A Misfit.

The Character Of Rosie Is Based On A Woman Who Used To Live In The Same Apartment Building I Lived In Many Years Ago. She's Taken On A Life Of Her Own, Of Course.

To Many Women Mistake A Man's Hostility For Wit And His Silence For Depth.