There's only one common element that united every writer I've admired... they're all incredibly well-read.

The moment seemed endless, but it was probably only half that.

… she gave me a look that deftly combined tenderness with revulsion. To this day the memory of that look still visits me like a Jehovah’s Witness: uninvited and tireless.

Sometimes not talking is effortless, and other times it’s more exhausting than lifting pianos.

Regrets came up and asked me if I’d like to own them. Declined them for the most part but took a few just so I wouldn’t leave this relationship empty handed.