Humanity Is Best Described As Inhumanity.

Comely Was The Town By The Curving River That They Dismantled In A Year's Time. Beautiful Was Colleton In Her Last Spring As She Flung Azaleas Like A Girl Throwing Rice At A Desperate Wedding. In Dazzling Profusion, Colleton Ripened In A Gauze Of Sweet Gardens And The Town Ached Beneath A Canopy Of Promissory Fragrance.

I Was Born And Raised On A Carolina Sea Island And I Carried The Sunshine Of The Low-country, Inked In Dark Gold, On My Back And Shoulders.

My Soul Grazes Like A Lamb On The Beauty Of An Indrawn Tide.

What's Important Is That A Story Changes Every Time You Say It Out Loud. When You Put It On Paper, It Can Never Change. But The More Times You Tell It, The More Changes Will Occur. A Story Is A Living Thing; It Moves And Shifts

There Are No Verdicts To Childhood, Only Consequences, And The Bright Freight Of Memory.