We All Carry The Houses Of Our

It Is For This, Partly, That I Write. How Can I Know What I Think Unless I See What I Write.

No One Ever Found Wisdom Without Also Being A Fool.

Life Has No Plot. It Is By Far More Interesting Than Anything You Can Say About It.

The Bruise On The Heart Which At First Feels Incredibly Tender To The Slightest Touch Eventually Turns All The Shades Of The Rainbow And Stops Aching. We Forget About It. We Even Forget We Have Hearts Until The Next Time. And Then We Wonder How We Ever Could Have Forgotten. We Think This One Is Better, Because, In Fact, We Cannot Fully Remember The Time Before.

Anybody Who Instantly Goes From Being A Poet And A Graduate Student To Being A Public Figure Has To Be In A State Of Shock. First People Want To Praise You, And Then They Want To Attack You. No One Can Prepare You For It.