I'll Wait For You Under The Bluebells.

The Car Picked Up Speed, And The Sound Seemed To Lull Me.i Could Relax, I Thought As I Felt The Tingling Of Circulation In My Limbs. I Was In Trent’s Car, Wrapped In A Blanket, And Held In His Arms. He Wouldn’t Let Anything Hurt Me. He Wasn’t Singing, Though,i Mused.shouldn’t He Be Singing?

...it's Easier To Find A Way To Make Money At Something You Love Than To Learn To Love A Job That You Can Make Money At.

Don't Fall Into The Trap Of Having To Have Everything Perfect To Write Or Wait Until The Mood Strikes You. If You Want It As A Job, Treat It Like A Job, And Just As You Don't Go To Work Only When You Feel Like It, You Have To Condition Yourself To Sit And Write Even When The Ideas Don't Flow.

My God", He Whispered. What Have I Done To Her? He Thought, Humbled. The Spell Was Broken, But It Wasn't Sealed, And Her Soul Was Bare To Him, The Scars Of Her Tragic Past And Her Triumphs Over Pain And Her Aching Need To Find Her Place. He Just Wanted To Hold Her To Him And Tell Her It Would Be Okay, That She Had Survived And Was Beautiful.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” He Said, Very Still And Unmoving. “always Jumping To The Wrong Conclusion. You’re Like A Frog, You Know.