The World May Be Broken, But Hope

We're All Just Facilitators. The Real Business Is Done By Readers.

Because No One Thought She Was A Person, She Had No One To Really Talk To.

I Like The Strings. I Always Have. Because That's How It Feels. But The Strings Make Pain Seem More Fatal Than It Is, I Think. We're Not As Frail As The Strings Would Make Us Believe. And I Like The Grass, Too. The Grass Got Me To You, Helped Me To Imagine You As An Actual Person. But We're Not Different Sprouts From The Same Plant. I Can't Be You. You Can't Be Me. You Can Imagine Another Well – But Never Quite Perfectly, You Know?

If You Don't Say The Honest Thing, It Never Becomes True.

Coal Miners Don't Get Coal Miners' Block.