The moral of this story is that no matter how much we try, no matter how much we want it ... some stories just don't have a happy ending.

There are just as many stories to be told in the dark spots s there are in the bright ones.

If you want to know someone's story, they have to tell it aloud. But every time, the telling is a little but different. It's new, even to me.

If you end your story, it's a static work of art, a finite circle. But if you don't, it belongs to anyone's imagination. It stays alive forever.

Everyone has a story; everyone hides his past as a means of self-preservation. Some just do it better, and more thoroughly, than others.

When was the last time someone read aloud to you? Probably when you were a child, and if you think back, you'll remember how safe you felt, tucked under the covers, or curled in someone's arms, as a story was spun around you like a web.