In School, Writing Was The Only Thing

He Shook His Head. "some People Think That They Like Music, But They Have No Idea What It's Really About. They're Kindding Themselves. Then There Are People Who Feel Strongly About Music, But Just Aren't Listening To The Right Stuff. They're Misguided. And Then There Are People Like Me." "people Like You," I Said. "what Kind Of People Are Those?" "the Kind Who Live For Music And Are Constantly Seeking It Out, Anywhere They Can. Who Can't Imagine A Life Without It. They're Enlightened."

I Don't Talk About My Books While I'm Writing Them: Not Even My Husband Knows What A Novel's About Until It's Done.

Yes, It Sucked Getting Dumped. But Wasn't It Better To Just Be Brutally Honest? To Admit That Your Feeling For Someone Is Never Going To Be Powerful Enough To Justify Taking Up Any More Of Their Time? I Was Doing Him A Favor, Really. Freeing Him Up For A Better Opportunity. In Fact, I Was A Practically A Saint, If You Really Thought About It. Exactly.

Friends Are Honest With Each Other. Even If The Truth Hurts. -maggie

And I Felt Comfort. Finally. All I'd Wanted For So Long Was For Someone To Explain Everything That Had Happened To Me In This Same Way. To Label It Neatly On A Page: This Leads To This Leads To This. I Knew, Deep Down, It Was More Complicated Than That, But Watching Jason, I Was Hopeful. He Took The Mess That Was Macbeth And Fixed It, And I Had To Wonder If He Might, In Some Small Way, Be Able To Do The Same For Me. So I Moved Myself Closer To Him, And I'd Been There Ever Since.