Within Every Elaborate Lie, A Kernel Of

Such Things As Anguish, Woe, Affliction, Guilt, Feelings Of Awfulness, And Utter Wretchedness, The Bread And Butter Of Days Of Yore And Russians, Sadly Have Very Little Staying Power In These Lickety-split Modern Times.

His Characters Are Ravaged, Beaten. They Walk Through Infernos And Emerged Charred Doves.

Good Bands You Can Kind Of Lose, Then Come Back And Realize They're Still Good.

It's Not Fair. It's Not. But Then, That's The Game. It Makes Life Great. The Fact That It Ends When We Don't Want It To. The Ending Gives It Meaning.

She Told Me Her Father Taught Her To Live Life Way Beyond The Cusp Of It, Way Out In The Outer Reaches Where Most People Never Had The Guts To Go, Where You Got Hurt. Where There Was Unimaginable Beauty And Pain ... They Were Always Reminding Themselves To Stop Measuring Life In Coffee Spoons, Mornings And Afternoons, To Keep Swimming Way, Way Down To The Bottom Of The Ocean To Find Where The Mermaids Sang, Each To Each. Where There Was Danger And Beauty And Light. Only The Now.