What Kind Of Life Can You Have

If You're Good At It, And You Love It, And It Helps You Navigate The River Of The World, Then It Can't Be Wrong.

The Streetlight Outside My House Shines On Tonight And I'm Watching It Like It Could Give Me A Vision. James Ain't Talked Ever And He Looks At That Streetlight Like It Was A Word And Maybe Like It Was A Verb. James Wanted To Streetlight Me And Make Me Bright And Beautiful So All The Moths And Bats Would Circle Me Like I Was The Center Of The World An Held Secrets.

The Librarian Spoke In A Reverential Whisper. Corliss Knew She'd Misjudged This Passionate Woman. Maybe She Dressed Poorly, But She Was Probably Great In Bed, Certainly Believed In God And Goodness, And Kept An Illicit Collection Of Overdue Library Books On Her Shelves.

I Write Books For Teenagers Because I Vividly Remember What It Felt Like To Be A Teen Facing Everyday And Epic Dangers. I Don't Write To Protect Them. It's Far Too Late For That. I Write To Give Them Weapons-in The Form Of Words And Ideas-that Will Help Them Fight Their Monsters. I Write In Blood Because I Remember What It Felt Like To Bleed.

I Was A Controversial Figure On My Reservation When I Was A Kid. I Was Mouthy And Opinionated And Arrogant. Nothing Has Changed.