When I Am Writing, I Try To

If You Have A Single Narrator, A Person Like An "i" - "'i' Did This" And "'i' Did That" - It Automatically Solves The Most Difficult Problem In Writing.

Life Is A Moderately Good Play With A Badly Written Third Act.

If You Weren't Here, If You Could Be Anywhere You Wanted To Be, Doing Anything You Wanted To Do, Where Would You Be And What Would You Be Doing?

Still, When All Is Said, Somewhere One Must Belong: Even The Soaring Falcon Returns To Its Master's Wrist.

All Human Life Has Its Seasons And Cycles, And No One's Personal Chaos Can Be Permanent. Winter, After All, Gives Way To Spring And Summer, Though Sometimes When Branches Stay Dark And The Earth Cracks With Ice, One Thinks They Will Never Come, That Spring, And That Summer, But They Do, And Always.