No One Ever Really Gets Used To

I Do Not Know Anything About Art With A Capital A. What I Do Know About Is My Art. Because It Concerns Me. I Do Not Speak For Others. So I Do Not Speak For Things Which Profess To Speak For Others. My Art, However, Speaks For Me. It Lights My Way.

Tom Gets By, Navidson Succeeds. Tom Just Wants To Be, Navidson Must Become. And Yet Despite Such Obvious Differences, Anyone Who Looks Past Tom's Wide Grin And Considers His Eyes Will Find Surprisingly Deep Pools Of Sorrow. Which Is How We Know They Are Brothers, Because Like Tom, Navidson's Eyes Share The Same Water.

Scars Are The Paler Pain Of Survival Received Unwillingly And Displayed In The Language Of Injury.

...she Still Cannot Resist Looking Out The Window Every Couple Of Minutes. The Sound Of A Passing Truck Causes Her To Glance Away. Even If There Is No Sound, The Weight Of A Hundred Seconds Always Turns Her Head.

Literature Is Capable Of Being A Subject That People Want To Catch Up On Or Discuss, Whether At A Coffee Shop Or A Watercooler. It Can Become An Intrinsic Part Of Their Dialogue.