The Only Advice I Can Give To

I Thought, Frankly, That It Would Be More Pleasant To Write A Memoir Than It Was.

Fishing Tournaments Seem A Little Like Playing Tennis With Living Balls.

I Did Not Want To Live Out My Life In The Strenuous Effort To Hold A Ghost World Together. It Was Plain As The Stars That Time Herself Moved In Grand Tidal Sweeps Rather Than The Tick-tocks We Suffocate Within, And That I Must Reshape Myself To Fully Inhabit The Earth Rather Than Dawdle In The Sump Of My Foibles.

Poetry At Its Best Is The Language Your Soul Would Speak If You Could Teach Your Soul To Speak.

Fate Has Never Ladled Out Hardship Very Evenly, And This Frequently Trips Our Often Infantile Sense Of Justice.