Sometimes at night during the season I was going through hell. Waking up in, who knows, Sacramento, in L.A., in the middle of the night alone in a hotel and thinking, 'Why am I here? Is it really worth it?' — Ricky Rubio Copy Share Image
“The last dying days of summer, fall coming on fast. A cold night, the first of the season, a change from the usual bland Maryland climate. Cold, thought the boy; his mind felt numb. The trees he could see through… — Poppy Z. Brite Copy Share Image
