"We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens jus..." — Chuck Palahniuk

My favorite books to give or get are short story collections. And always paperbacks because they are easy to carry as you travel.

I am the cause of all my upsets. I am my worst enemy.

I used to work as a volunteer in a hospice, but I don't have any nursing skills or cooking skills or anything, so I was what they call an escort. I would take people to the support groups every night, and I would have to sit sort of on the sidelines so I could take them back to hospice at the end of the meeting.

If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character, would you slow down? Or speed up?