The typewriter is the repositary of a writer's loneliness. It stairs unsympathetically back at him everyday, doing its best to be discouraging. May be I'll go back to the old fashioned quill pan and marble ink-stand; then I can feel like a real writer, Balzac or Dickens, scratching away into endless reaches ofnight... Of course, the days and nights are seemingly shorter than they need to be! They must be, otherwise why do we hurry so much and achieve so little, by the standars of the past...
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 14, 2011
You know what I miss, Cam? The silliest of things. Watching the three of you argue over something. There were times when your mother and I thought you'd bicker us crazy, but I miss that now. And early morning fishing when the sun just starts to burn off the mist over the water. I miss teaching. I miss seeing that look on a student's face when something you say, just one thing, clicks and opens the mind. I miss pretty girls in summer dresses and lying in bed at three o'clock in the morning listening to rain on the roof.
Then he turned his head and smiled. His eyes were as bright and as brilliantly blue as the sweatshirt had once been. "you should appreciate those things while you have them, but you never do. Not all the way. Too busy living. Now and again, you dhould try to stop to appreciate the little things. They'll build up if you do"