Who Amongst Us Lives Without Sacrifice?

At The End Of The Day I Am A Writer, And If I Don't Take Care Of This, No One Else Will.

Astonishingly, At Some Point, A Sputtering Torch Was Thrust Into Her Hands. Alma Did Not See Who Gave It To Her. She Had Never Before Been Entrusted With Fire. The Torch Spit Sparks And Sent Chunks Of Flaming Tar Spinning Into The Air Behind Her As She Bolted Across The Cosmos-the Only Body In The Heavens Who Was Not Held To A Strict Elliptical Path. Nobody Stopped Her. She Was A Comet. She Did Not Know That She Was Not Flying.

I'm Not A Big Austen Reader. I Wouldn't Say I Dislike Her, But If I Had To Choose Between Her And Eliot To Bring To A Desert Island, It Would Definitely Be Eliot.

When I Read The Article [in The New Yorker] By David Grann, I Was Very Struck By People Responding To The Article, Of People Thinking I Was Such A Hero And What A Wonderful Person I Was, And I Didn't Feel That At All. I Felt Like I Had Very Much, Like Todd [willingham], Taken A Path Of Self-preservation.

Embrace The Beautiful Mess That You Are.