“The bullet we're running from is almost never the one that hits us.”

“Everyone is always looking in the wrong direction,we worry about our lovers while losing our jobswe stress out about cancer while our children run awaywe ponder the stars while burning the earth.Lark used to say the buller we're running fromis almost never the one that hits us.”

“Days grow hotter and life grows shorter.Time is somehow running out.She flips her pillowso she won't have to sleep on her tears.”

“As she stared at the ceiling that first nighther body softly falling back into itself,she thought of how we dream of journeyingon spaceships to other universes, other worlds,but really, for the forever,we're stuck here on the dirt andthe only time we will travel anywhere truly unknowableis when we slip into the skin of another,venturing into their mysteries,always hoping fora safe landing.”

“The theory is simple.Every boy, every man, is reallya bit of a golden retrieveror a big chocolate Lab.Watch any man's eyesat the bounce of a ball.His head tilts slightly sideways, just a hair,as a primitive focuscomes to life.”

“The heart is a bloody thing. ”

“Some things don't pass, the injuries don't heal they merely find a place in our guts and in our bones where they fitfully rest, tossing and turning between our knuckles and ribs waiting to wake as the shadows grow long.”