I'm Afraid That My Wife Picked Up

The Colors Of Living Things Begin To Fade With The Last Breath, And The Soft, Springy Skin And Supple Muscle Rot Within Weeks. But The Bones Sometimes Remain, Faithful Echoes Of The Shape, To Bear Some Last Faint Witness To The Glory Of What Was.

While The Lord Might Insist That Vengeance Was His, No Male Highlander Of My Acquaintance Had Ever Thought It Right That The Lord Should Be Left To Handle Such Things Without Assistance.

Has He Come Armed, Then?” She Asked Anxiously. “has He Brought A Pistol Or A Sword?” Ian Shook His Head, His Dark Hair Lifting Wildly In The Wind. “oh, No, Mam!” He Said. “it’s Worse. He’s Brought A Lawyer!

Really Love Him, I Mean," Geilie Persisted. "not Just To Bed Him; I Know You Want That, And He Does Too. They All Do. But Do You Love Him?" Did I Love Him? Beyond The Urges Of The Flesh? The Hole Had The Dark Anonymity Of The Confessional, And A Soul On The Verge Of Death Had No Time For Lies. "yes," I Said, And Laid My Head Back On My Knees. It Was Silent In The Hole For Some Time, And I Hovered Once More On The Verge Of Sleep, When I Heard Her Speak Once More, As Though To Herself. "so It's Possible," She Said Thoughtfully.

Are Some People Destined For A Great Fate, Or To Do Great Things? Or Is It Only That They're Born Somehow With That Great Passion - And If They Find Themselves In The Right Circumstances, Then Things Happen? It's The Sort Of Thing You Wonder.