Grief, He Said, Is Carnivorous.

There Are Threads In Our Lives. You Pull One, And Everything Else Gets Affected.

Grief, He Said, Is Carnivorous.

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.

Chuck Said, “hey. How Many Surrealists Does It Take To Screw In A Lightbulb?” Cawley Looked Over At Him. “i’ll Bite. How Many?” “fish,” Chuck Said And Let Loose A Bright Bark Of A Laugh.

My Daughter Squealed Again And Both Bubba And I Winced. It’s Not An Attractive Sound, That. It’s High-pitched And It Enters Your Ear Canals Like Hot Glass. No Matter How Much I Love My Daughter, I Will Never Love Her Squealing. Or Maybe I Will. Maybe I Do. Driving Down 93, I Realized Once And For All, That I Love The Things That Chafe. The Things That Fill Me With Stress So Total I Can’t Remember When A Block Of It Didn’t Rest On Top Of My Heart. I Love What, If Broken, Can’t Be Repaired. What, If Lost Can’t Be Replaced. I Love My Burdens.