I Like To Visit My Horse, Have

So Mo Began Filling The Silence With Words. He Lured Them Out Of The Pages As If They Had Only Been Waiting For His Voice, Words Long And Short, Words Sharp And Soft, Cooing, Purring Words. They Danced Through The Room, Painting Stained Glass Pictures, Tickling The Skin. Even When Meggie Nodded Off She Could Still Hear Them, Although Mo Had Closed The Book Long Ago. Words That Explained The World To Her, Its Dark Side And Its Light Side, Words That Built A Wall To Keep Out Bad Dreams. And Not A Single Bad Dream Came Over That Wall For The Rest Of The Night.

It's A Cruel World, Don't You Think?

She Had Only To Open A Door, Nothing But A Door Between The Words,just Large Enough For Her And Farid To Pass Through.

I Will Try To Write Books Until I Drop Dead.

So What? All Writers Are Lunatics!