His Words Had Tossed The Book That

My Fingers Positively Itched To Drift At Length Along Their Spines, To Arrive At One Whose Lure I Could Not Pass, To Pluck It Down, To Inch It Open, Then To Close My Eyes And Inhale The Soul-sparking Scent Of Old And Literate Dust.

In Retrospect, It Seems Like Everything In My Life Led To Me Becoming A Writer. I Just Didn't Realise It At The Time.

Happiness In Life Is Not A Given, It Must Be Seized.

In Each Man's Heart There Lies A Hole. A Dark Abyss Of Need, The Filling Of Which Takes Precedence Over All Else.

Oh, Grey, No One Really Likes Keeping Secrets. The Only Thing That Makes A Secret Fun Is Knowing That You Weren't Supposed To Tell It.