Per aspera ad astra, Papa,' I whispered. Through hardship to the stars.
What had human beings become? Did war make us evil or just activate an evil already lurking within us?
War had bled color from everything, leaving nothing but a storm of gray.
Killers aren't always assassins. Sometimes, they don't even have blood on their hands.
Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.
I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself.
... I’m not running around blaming anybody. I’m doing the work. Which is what, exactly? Letting it hurt.
How did I get here How did I end up in the arms of a boy I barely knew but knew I didn't want to lose I wondered what I would have thought of Andrius in Lithuania. Would I have liked him Would he have liked me
How foolish to believe we are more powerful than the sea or the sky.
I felt as if I were riding a pendulum. Just as I would swing into the abyss of hopelessness, the pendulum would swing back with some small goodness.
...we're dealing with two devils who both want to rule hell.
Mileage doesn’t make the man.
I leapt eagerly into books. The characters’ lives were so much more interesting than the lonely heartbeat of my own.
I clung to books and words because, unlike people, they’d never abandon me.
I'm a binge writer. I work in the music business fulltime, in artist management and developing songwriters and recording artists, and so juggling my job I carve out as much time as I can on the weekends.
New Orleans is unlike any city in America. Its cultural diversity is woven into the food, the music, the architecture - even the local superstitions. It's a sensory experience on all levels and there's a story lurking around every corner.