Brian D'Ambrosio

I never trust a man who tucks in his shirt by choice or neglects coffee in favor of tea.

Creativity is always a leap of faith. Writers sit down in front of empty pages. Painters stare before blank easels. Thespians rehearse looking toward empty stages. Creativity is experimental by nature.

Trying to change someone only makes them cling to their existing behavior with brutish, primal force.

Rum is tonic that clarifies the vision,and sets things in true perspective.

Life is calmness with squabbling, accumulating traditions and self-consciousness. elaborate meals, medicine, law,pretty pictures unspoiled,rocking the cradle and holding the hammer, impressive skies of gray and blue, believing in what we can__ settle, the mystery of iniquity,the absolutely sincere predictions of fools,lighter moods like these.

Life,perhaps less a document than an impression,conveyed through partial glances,stream-of-consciousness juxtapositions,unpredictable rhythms, a collage of sound,a conscientious diarist,a career of blackmail and scandal culminated in murder,a blind man with a will of iron and a nervous system of gossamer.

On the perfect night there is nothing more transcendent or terrifying than boxing. It's the ultimate representation of the guilty pleasure.

The stony silence of death, trapped by the original gravity of our sins,and the perpetuity of a long, leisurely yawn, a world where blood and bone no longer matter.

One thing that unites triumphant entrepreneurs, whether in Brooklyn, San Francisco or Great Falls, Montana, is strength of character.Individuality is the goal that we all strive to excel at in some way; the notion that we are distinct, special, that there is something teachable about our wisdom, something remarkable about our outlook.

Happiness is a habit,it__ more than fleeting,more than a disintegrating lozenge.

American dream,a spouse,a brace of children,cuddly pets,coffee-table books,rusted skeleton keys,plastic cauliflower bags,business cards of business-card printers,a mound of used airmail envelopes. Old house on moving day,all echoes and loneliness.

The lonely, wistful revisionism of memories is as gratingly repetitive as snow and ice in Canada. I avoid them both at all costs - memories and Canada.