The Ideas Choose Me, Not The Other

They Ask, How Could This Happen Here? Well. How Could It Not Happen Here?

For Someone Who Can’t Remember Very Much, There Seems To Be A Lot I Can’t Forget.

That's The Paradox Of Loss: How Can Something That's Gone Weigh Us Down So Much?

I'm Always Writing, Even When I'm Not At My Desk. I Write On My Hands. I Used To Write On My Kids' Hands, Too, But They Don't Let Me Any More. When I'm Driving I Sometimes Write All The Way Up My Arms.

Since It Had Gotten So Quiet In The Room That You Could Hear The Sound Of Your Own Doubts.