I Wonder How Well She Sleeps At

But We Don’t Remember Those Lives. We Can’t Read Our Diaries.’ ‘it Doesn’t Matter. We Are Where We Are, However We Got Here. What Matters Is Where We Go Next.’ ‘but Can We Choose That?’ ‘i Don’t Know.’ ‘we’re Dead. Can We Really Choose Anything?’ ‘maybe. If We Want To Bad Enough.

Life Only Makes Any Sense If We Can See Time How God Does. Past, Present, And Future All At Once.

I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

It's Rare That I Read More Than Two Or Three Books By Any One Author, Usually Only One.

I Wince At Her Use Of The Word "human." I've Never Liked That Differentiation. She Is Living And I'm Dead, But We're Both Human. Call Me An Idealist.