I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
For every moment of triumph, for every instance of beauty, many souls must be trampled.
There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment.
By any accepted standard, I have had more than nine lives. I counted them up once, and there were 13 times I almost and maybe should have died.
The next MVP of the Super Bowl is just as likely to have been a full-time grocery store bagger last year as a Heisman Trophy winner.
I hate pain, despite my ability to tolerate it beyond all known parameters, which is not necessarily a good thing.
