Negativity is like being stung constantly by a thousand bees. At first it’s really annoying, but after a few more stings it becomes toxic.

Ignorance is toxic. If a man hands you a cup of coffee and pours in what he calls liquid sugar when the container clearly says poison, how bliss is your ignorance?

It pains me to have all this knowledge and no one to share it with, I’d have to say its number 3 on my list. – Of what causes me the most pain.

Life is nothing more than a contradiction.

We have to feed our loved ones, but at what cost. A dead man or woman can’t feed the living.

A double sided sword is crafted under heat and pressure and comes out ever more beautiful because of it.

I could’ve quit long ago, but there wouldn’t be nothing to quit to, unless I was ready to commit suicide.

Don’t be like everyone else and pawn your dreams for pennies, because they’ll never give you what it’s truly worth.

I stood in the isle thinking about my future, while the man next to me complained, but when I asked him what his dream was he never answered.

The worst pain I had to face is the fight with myself. I'm unsure who to rout for, because they both want what’s best for me.

Grown ups’ could learn a lesson from watching cartoons.

L'alpiniste est un homme qui conduit son corps là où, un jour, ses yeux ont regardé. Et qui revient.

As far as which writers embody this form of gentle power - Tobias Wolff, for sure. His persona and his writing both share an easy, capacious confidence that says he has faith in his readers.

An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.

The beauty of me is I'm always going to ask. I'll never not ask.

A musician carries the music within him. He needs no specific instrument. he is the music.

Writer advice... Write. Finish things. Go for walks. Read a lot & outside your comfort zone. Stay interested. Daydream. Write.

Excessive severity misses its own aim.

I'm really glad I did not tattoo on my body 'cause I don't want them. So, permanence is a very scary thing to me, along with things that don't change at all.

With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.

Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin That never has known the barber's shear, All your wish is woman to win, This is the way that boys begin. Wait till you come to Forty Year.