I Spend A Lot Of Time Obsessing

He Pulled Away, But His Eyes Held My Eyes Like Hands.

The Job Of The Artist Is To Point At Things.

When You Can See The Beauty Of A Tree, Then You Will Know What Love Is.

Writing A Novel Was Like I Had Some Play-doh To Work With And Could Just Keep Working With It - Doing A Million Drafts And Things Changing Radically And Characters Appearing And Disappearing And Solving Mysteries: Why Is This Thing Here? Should I Just Take That Away? And Then Realizing, No, That Is There, In Fact, Because That Is The Key To This. I Love That Sort Of Detective Work, Keeping The Faith Alive Until All The Questions Have Been Sleuthed Out.

There Was Nothing In This World That Was Not A Con, Suddenly I Understood This. Nothing Really Mattered, And Nothing Could Be Lost.