Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

Laugh as much as possible, because one moment will stop this moment.

There are some days we can claim and there are other days that claim us.

Silence rolled at me, in

I think everything should have an end, an end of the brutal stuff happening home. ENd for the song, end of the film, end of the evil... This how it must go and it will go, if you think that evil has gone it's still here. If you believe in god, that's means that you believe this evil.

For what are the words with which to summarize a lifetime, so much crowded confused happiness terminated by such stark slow-motion pain?