You Want The Good Life?

And None Of These People, Not One Of Them, Had Loved Any Of The Others Well Enough. Failures, He Thought, We're All Failures... He Wanted His Love To Be The Wine And Bread, And The Blood And Flesh. He Reached For Her, A Dangerous Stranger In A City Of Dangerous Strangers, But She Turned Away From Him And Walked Unsteadily Through The Crowd. How Many Loveless People Walk Among The Barely Loved?

If I Wasn't Writing Poems I'd Be Washing My Hands All The Time.

She Was In Pain And I Loved Her, Sort Of Loved Her, I Guess, So I Kind Of Had To Love Her Pain, Too.

I Remember When People Used To Think I Was Smart. I Remember When People Used To Think My Brain Was Useful. Damaged By Water, Sure. And Ready To Seizure At Any Moment. But Still Useful, And Maybe Even A Little Bit Beautiful And Sacred And Magical.

Corliss Had Never Once Considered The Fate Of Library Books. She'd Never Wondered How Many Books Go Unread. She Loved Books. How Could She Not Worry About The Unread? She Felt Like A Disorganized Scholar, An Inconsiderate Lover, An Abusive Mother, And A Cowardly Soldier.