I Need To Write To Be Happy.

I Saw You Standing On A Veranda You'd Built With Your Own Hands. And I Loved You.

Every Writer Needs An Editor. I Don't Care How Good You Are Or Think You Are.

I Want To See You Again." He Stopped, Took Her Face In His Hands. "i Need To See You Again." Her Pulse Jumped, As If It Had Nothing To Do With The Rest Of Her. "roarke, What's Going On Here?" "lieutenant." He Leaned Forward, Touched His Lips To Hers. "indications Are We're Having A Romance.

Eve-"in The Name Of All That Is Holy...it's 2060, Not 1760. Can't They Figure Out A Better Way To Handle This Process?" Roarke-"amen

Fine, You Do That, And You Tell Them That At The Very First Opportunity, I'm Coming Down There And Killing All Of Them. Mass Murder. And After They're All Dead, I'm Going To Kick The Bodies Around, Dance On Top Of Them, And Sing A Happy Song. No Jury Will Convict Me.