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My dad was a designer for Upper Deck, and I had hundreds of Ken Griffey Jr. cards. Hundreds. I could have paid for college with them.
She could only write with him at night and she was wasting her days just sitting around. So he thought I could write with her during the day. And that was Carole King.
I love anything by Tchaikovsky. He was the real pop star of his day.
The memories stayed with him for so long, and stayed vivid. And it didn't matter to me that he'd already repeated that before. I could hear it forever.
Grace is God as heart surgeon, cracking open your chest, removing your heart - poisoned as it is with pride and pain - and replacing it with his own.
The man of the house can destroy the pleasure of the household, but he cannot make it. That rests with the woman, and it is her greatest privilege.
A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely afford to if he wanted.
A man was defined, in my father's circles, by what he could bear, the pain he could shrug off, the warmth or comfort he could deny himself.
Once you grow past Mommy and Daddy coming running when you're hurt, you're really on your own. You're alone, and there's no one to help you.
