The Best Thing That Can

The Ornament Of Beauty, Shakespeare Wrote, Is Suspect. And He Was Right. But Beauty Itself, Unadorned And Unaffected, Is Sacred, I Think, Worthy Of Our Awe And Our Loyalty.

It's Good Not Only To Realize That You Can't Please All Of The People All Of The Time, But That You Don't Want To. There's A Certain Type Of Reader That You Don't Ever Want To Write For.

Narrative Becomes The Way You Make Sense Of Chaos. That's How You Focus The World. It's The Only Reason You Should Ever Try This Writing Job.

It's Hard To Close The Door On Optimistic Expectations When You Love Someone.

Happiness Doesn't Lie In Conspicuous Consumption And The Relentless Amassing Of Useless Crap. Happiness Lies In The Person Sitting Beside You And Your Ability To Talk To Them. Happiness Is Clear-headed Human Interaction And Empathy. Happiness Is Home. And Home Is Not A House-home Is A Mythological Conceit. It Is A State Of Mind. A Place Of Communion And Unconditional Love. It Is Where, When You Cross Its Threshold, You Finally Feel At Peace.