I Love Writing Different Things.

The Birds Fly In The Wrong Places And There Are Too Many Stars In The Sky.

The Worst Time To Feel Alone Is When You're In A Crowd.

The Cia Agent Looked More Dead Than Alive. Alex Wondered If He Had Been Hit, But There Was No Sign Of Any Blood. Perhaps He Was In Shock.

Some Things Can't Be Changed. They'll Always Happen The Way They Were Supposed To.

I Hear It Still. As I Lay Down My Pen And Take To My Bed, I Am Aware Of The Bow Being Drawn Across The Bridge And The Music Rises Into The Night Sky. It Is Far Away And Barely Audible - But There It Is! A Pizzicato. Then A Tremelo. The Style Is Unmistakable. It Is Sherlock Holmes Who Is Playing. It Must Be. I Hope With All My Heart That He Is Playing For Me . . .