God Is Cruel. Sometimes He Makes You

I Hold To No God," Roland Said. "i Hold To The Tower, And Won't Pray To That.

Here I Am, Ninety Years Old And Ready For The Cooling Board, Using A Brand New Macintosh Computer, And There You Sit, Twenty-two And Gorgeous, Fresh As A New Peach, Yet Scrawling On A Yellow Legal Pad Like An Old Maid In A Victorian Romance.

The Quiet, Singing Voice Of The Rose. The Song That Promised All Might Be Well, All Might Be Well, That All Manner Of Things Might Be Well.

I Think Part Of Being A Parent Is Trying To Kill Your Kids.

I Worry About You Bev. I Worry A Lot.