Burn Me. Drown Me. Tell Me Lies.

I Read Betty Smith's "a Tree Grows In Brooklyn," All Of Shirley Jackson's Books, Which I Loved.

All The Characters In My Books Are Imagined, But All Have A Bit Of Who I Am In Them - Much Like The Characters In Your Dreams Are All Formed By Who You Are

You Can Never Tell About A Person By Guessing...that's Why Language Was Invented. Otherwise, We'd All Be Like Dogs, Sniffing Each Other To Find Out Where We Stood.

He Fell In Love With The Way She Closed Her Eyes, Long Before He Fell In Love With Her.

Jill Told Me That When You're Really In Love, You Know Right Away. I'm Not Exactly Sure How This Happens. Is It Like A Flash Of Lightning? Like An Angel Tapping You On The Shoulder? Or Is It Similar To Choosing A Puppy? You Think You're Picking The Cutest One, But Really You Wind Up Going Home With The One Who Keeps Insisting On Climbing Into Your Lap.