What Molds Us Is What Maims Us.

Grief, I Swear To God, Doesn't Live In The Heart. It Lives In The Senses. And Sometimes, All I Want To Do Is Cut Off My Nose So I Can't Smell Her, Hack My Fingers Off At The Joint.

I Believe So Deeply In The Primacy Of Language, In Lifting Your Prose To The Highest Level You're Capable Of And Making Your Words Symphonic.

I Won The Parental Lottery. Most Of The Kids I Grew Up With Either Came From Really Fractured Homes, Or Really Violent Ones. I Went Home To A Very Traditional, Good Irish Catholic Family.

Everyone Sees Different Things.

Patrick Kenzie Asking A Bemused Waitress For A Newspaper In Smalltown Usa. 'it's Like A Homepage Without A Scroll Button?'