Her Heart Was A Secret Garden And

But Just As He Knew The Sun Was Obliged To Rise Each Morning In The East, No Matter How Much A Western Arisal Might Have Pleased It, So He Knew That Buttercup Was Obliged To Spend Her Love On Him. Gold Was Inviting, And So Was Royalty, But They Could Not Match The Fever In His Heart, And Sooner Or Later She Would Have To Catch It. She Had Less Choice Than The Sun.

Flailing And Thrashing, Buttercup Wept And Tossed And Paced And Wept Some More, And There Have Been Three Great Cases Of Jealousy Since David Of Galilee Was First Afflicted With The Emotion When He Could No Longer Stand The Fact That His Neighbor Saul's Cactus Outshone His Own. (originally, Jealousy Pertained Solely To Plants, Other People's Cactus Or Ginkgoes, Or, Later, When There Was Grass, Grass, Which Is Why, Even To This Day, We Say That Someone Is Green With Jealousy.) Buttercup's Case Rated A Close Fourth On The All-time List. It Was A Very Long And Very Green Night.

One Way An Author Dies A Little Each Day Is When His Books Go Out Of Print.

You Are Trying To Kidnap What I Have Rightfully Stolen, And I Think It Quite Ungentlemanly.

Anybody That Says Different Is Selling Something.