People Gave Me Such A Bad Time

It Turns Out That The Distance From Head To Hand, From Wafting Butterfly To Entomological Specimen, Is Achieved Through Regular Practice. What Begins As Something Like A Dream Will In Fact Stay A Dream Forever Unless You Have The Tools And The Discipline To Bring It Out.

I Know Where I'm Going. And If I Don't Know Where I'm Going, I Don't Tend To Get Anywhere.

I Should Figure Out Why I'm So Much More Interested In Doing Something That I Think Is Really Hard. But, Somehow, The Thing That Is Hard For Me Feels More Noble.

Do You Want To Do This Thing? Sit Down And Do It. Are You Not Writing? Keep Sitting There. Does It Not Feel Right? Keep Sitting There. Think Of Yourself As A Monk Walking The Path To Enlightenment. Think Of Yourself As A High School Senior Wanting To Be A Neurosurgeon. Is It Possible? Yes. Is There Some Shortcut? Not One I've Found. Writing Is A Miserable, Awful Business. Stay With It. It Is Better Than Anything In The World.

I Think That People All Grow Up And Have Their Same Personalities, But You Can Say, "oh, I Can See The Roots Of This Personality, Which I Didn't Like, But Then You Grew Up, And I Can Still See You As That Person, But I Do Really Like You Now." Which Is Sort Of How I Feel About Children - I Mean, About Children Who I Knew When I Was A Child And Grew Up With, And They're Still My Friends, And Children That I Know As Children Who I See Growing Up, And Every Year I Like Them More.