A Certain Bohemian, Good-witch Sort Of Charm

But There Are Still The Hours, Aren't There? One And Then Another, And You Get Through That One And Then, My God, There's Another.

As Writers We Must, From Our Very Opening Sentence, Speak With Authority To Our Readers.

She Is Not A Writer At All, Really; She Is Merely A Gifted Eccentric.

A Certain Bohemian, Good-witch Sort Of Charm

Yes," She Answers And Does Not Move. She Might, At This Moment, Be Nothing But A Floating Intelligence; Not Even A Brain Inside A Skull, Just A Presence That Perceives, As A Ghoast Might. Yes, She Thinks, This Is Probably How It Must Feel To Be A Ghost. It's A Little Like Reading, Isn't It-that Same Sensation Of Knowing People, Settings, Situations, Without Playing Any Particular Part Beyond That Of The Willing Observer.