The other six or seven drafts are going to be pure torture. So why not enjoy the first draft, in the hope that your joy will seek and find others in the world who, reading your story, will catch fire, too?

Ours is a culture and a time immensely rich in trash as it is in treasures.

Sunsets are loved because they vanish.

Flowers are loved because they go.

The dogs of the field and the cats of the kitchen are loved because soon they must depart.

These are not the sole reasons, but at the heart of morning welcomes and afternoon laughters is the promise of farewell. In the gray muzzle of an old dog we see goodbye. In the tired face of an old friend we read long journeys beyond returns.

Salta, y deja que te crezcan alas en el camino hacia abajo.

I don't talk things, sir. I talk the meaning of things.

You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by.