Part Of The Beauty Of Fiction Is

No Shame In Saying That I Felt A Loneliness Drifting Through Me. Funny How It Was, Everyone Perched In Their Own Little World With The Deep Need To Talk, Each Person With Their Own Tale, Beginning In Some Strange Middle Point, Then Trying So Hard To Tell It All, To Have It All Make Sense, Logical And Final.

He Said To Me Once That Most Of The Time People Use The Word Love As Just Another Way To Show Off They're Hungry. The Way He Said It Went Something Like: Glorify Their Appetites.

What Corrigan Wanted Was A Fully Believable God, One You Could Find In The Grime Of The Everyday... He Consoled Himself With The Fact That, In The Real World, When He Looked Closely Into The Darkness He Might Find The Presence Of A Light, Damaged And Bruised, But A Little Light All The Same. He Wanted, Quite Simply, For The World To Be A Better Place, And He Was In The Habit Of Hoping For It.

One Small Cloud, Cast Out By The Herd, Limps Away To The West.

Women Get The Short Shrift In History. It's Been Largely Written And Dictated By Men, Or At Least Men Believe That We Own It, And Women Have Really Been In Those Quieter Moments At The Edge Of History. But, Really, They're The Ones Who Are Turning The Cogs And The Wheels And Allowing Things Like The Peace Process To Happen.