You'll Have Pie In The Sky When

She Just Knew That Even When You Had Nothing, You Still Had Love.

I Remind Myself That No One Day Of Writing Matters All That Much. A Story Is Built Somewhat Like A Stalactite - One Little Drip Of Mud And Grit At A Time.

It Was Like Wondering How Evil Had Come Into The World Or What Happens To A Person After He Dies: An Interesting Philosophical Exercise, But Also Curiously Pointless, Since Evil And Death Happened, Regardless Of The Why And The How And What-it-meant.

Work And Pray, Live On Hay, Youll Get Pie In The Sky When You Die.

I Want You To Remember What Was Good In Me, Not What Was Most Awful. The People You Love Should Be Allowed To Keep Their Worst To Themselves.