The Light Was Cut To Lace By

You Throw A Person In The River And Then Make A Spectacle Of Jumping In To Save Them.

Maybe There Would Be A Bad Outcome For Some Of The Others, But No One Was Going To Shoot A Soprano.

Just Because Things Hadn't Gone The Way I Had Planned Didn't Necessarily Mean They Had Gone Wrong.

From My Table Inside I Watch The Glamorous Women Outside Who Are Lunching On Spa Cobb Salads Without Blue Cheese Or Dressing. The Man With The Bread Basket Wanders From Table To Table, Lonesome As A Cloud. When He Comes To Me His Basket Is Full And Perfectly Arranged. He Gives Me A Smile Of Sincere Pleasure When I Tell Him I Will Take Both The Sourdough Roll And The Cheese Stick.

You Can't Be A Jerk In Order To Be A Good Writer.