And I Plan To Write A Sequel

So What? All Writers Are Lunatics!

Ten Minutes Can Be A Long Time When You're Waiting With A Beating Heart For Something You Don't Understand, Something You Don't Really Want To Know.

The Heart Was A Weak, Changeable Thing, Bent On Nothing But Love, And There Could Be No More Fatal Mistake Than To Make It Your Master. Reason Must Be In Charge. It Comforted You For The Heart's Foolishness, It Sang Mocking Songs About Love, Derided It As A Whim Of Nature, Transient As Flowers. So Why Did She Still Keep Following Her Heart?

The Fairy's Dress Rustled As She Turned. Human Women Dressed Like Flowers, Layers Of Petals Around A Mortal, Rotting Core.

Let's Run Away To Venice, And Hide Out In An Old Movie Theater. We Can Dye Our Hair Blonde, So No One Will Ever Find Us!