learning 's a gift, even when "pain" ,s your teacher!
Or maybe, he thought, returning to the boxes, it was part of being Catholic--you were made to feel guilty about everything
It's tremendously hard work. Yes, I love arranging the words and having them fall on the ear the right way and you know you're not quite there and you're redoing it and redoing it and there's a wonderful thrill to it. But it is hard.
I suspect the most we can hope for, and it's no small hope, is that we never give up, that we never stop giving ourselves permission to try to love and receive love.
You couldn't make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You had to just wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn't go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind.
The facts didn't matter. Their stories mattered, and each of their stories belonged to each of them alone.
I would also hope that readers receive a larger understanding, or a different understanding, of what it means to be human, than they might have had before. We suffer from being quick to judge, quick to make excuses for ourselves and others, and I would like the reader to feel that we are all, more or less, in a similar state as we love and disappoint one another, and that we try, most of us, as best we can, and that to fail and succeed is what we do.
I can't think of a more natural experience in my entire life than playing with Mike Dean, Woody Weatherman again. I really learned how to play with them in terms of drumming.
but you were a fool to bring that pider into this house
I think that everybody needs somebody to really look up to and know that even though you're going through a tough time, you'll get over it.
Surround yourself with people that are going to support you on your journey, and get rid of the ones that don't.