I Must Say, I Rather Like The

Looking At Him Now-even If She Hadn't Been In Love With Him, That Part Of Her That Was Her Mother's Daugher, That Loved Every Beautiful Thing For Its Beauty Alone, Would Still Have Wanted Him.

She Glanced Down And Saw That A Glove Of Blood Covered Her Lower Arm From The Elbow To The Wrist. The Arm Was Throbbing, Stiff, And Painful. "is This When You Start Tearing Strips Off Your T-shirt To Bind Up My Wound?" She Joked. She Hated The Sight Of Blood, Especially Her Own. "if You Wanted Me To Rip My Clothes Off, You Should Have Just Asked." He Dug Into His Pocket And Brought Out His Stele. "it Would Have Been A Lot Less Painful.

And Like Lambs To A Slaughter We Shall Follow.

Trying To Read His Face. It Was Like A Book Written In A Foreign Language She'd Studied All Too Briefly.

To Draw Something Is To Try To Capture It Forever.