It’s not that you like being sad, but you start to see the value of it. You don’t judge sadness so harshly.
In those dangerous narrows grew children who knew too much too young but, sadly, always seemed to learn too little too late.
In sleep, my sister and I found a common breath. In dreams, we knew the moon.
You think about these words a lot, and there are not many things, when you come right down to it, that you'll be happy to see the end of.
Uncle Stash said you didn't have to be crazy to to do something stupid, just young.
The city, no matter how small, is corrupt and unrepentant, while the sun shines brighter in the country, making people more wholesome.
Sometimes a guy wants to feel like he learned something without being taught.
Regrets. Sure you think about regrets, but it's not regret for the things you've done that occupy you, as much as it is a longing for the things you'll never have a chance to do.
If you don't like something about yourself, change it. If you're OK with it, you gotta own it. There's nothing in between.
If heaven is tolerant and writers are allowed (bunch of liars though they are), I wonder if they gather for coffee to ponder the prose they should have written instead.
I wondered who would teach me, or if a boy could learn on his won, what it means to be a man.
Feeling the wind rush in through the broken window, Mary thought of how Gooch would say, You’re letting out the heat, when she kept the door open, and You’re letting out the cold, when her nose was in...
Write,' she said, 'as if you'll never be read. That way you'll be sure to tell the truth.
The strangest thing about strange things is that they're only strange when you hear about them or think about them later, but never when you're living them.
I felt the weight of my father's failures and the absence of my mother and I wondered who would teach me, or if a guy could learn on his own, what it means to be a man.
You're just not always in a place for as long as you thought you'd be.
The climb speaks to our character, but the view, I think, to our souls. The
I hum some secret place into being, thinking of this other me, the one that only I can see, a girl called She, who is not We, a girl who I will never be.
I can't exactly say why I've chosen to write about the things that I am writing about. There are doubtless better stories from my life that I am missing, events and escapades I am not wise enough to k...
Shelley says some people were born on third base and some people were born outside the ballpark, and the journey to home plate ain’t the same for all. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone to, like, find...