If You Break Little Promises, You'll Break

You Either Stick Or You Quit. And I Wouldnt Quit You I Dont Care What You Done.

You Are Either Born A Writer Or You Are Not.

The Soft Black Talc Blew Through The Streets Like Squid Ink Uncoiling Along A Sea Floor And The Cold Crept Down And The Dark Came Early And The Scavengers Passing Down The Steep Canyons With Their Torches Trod Silky Holes In The Drifted Ash That Closed Behind Them Silently As Eyes.

I Got What I Needed Instead Of What I Wanted And That's Just About The Best Kind Of Luck You Can Have.

By Day The Banished Sun Circles The Earth Like A Grieving Mother With A Lamp.