It's Not All About Getting Your Own

Under The Skin, Intense Fires Burn.

She Knew This Music--knew It Down To The Very Core Of Her Being--but She Had Never Heard It Before. Unfamiliar, It Had Still Always Been There Inside Her, Waiting To Be Woken. It Grew From The Core Of Mystery That Gives A Secret Its Special Delight, Religion Its Awe. It Demanded To Be Accepted By Simple Faith, Not Dissected Or Questioned, And At The Same Time, It Begged To Be Doubted And Probed.

Sculptors, Poets, Painters, Musicians-they're The Traditional Purveyors Of Beauty. But It Can As Easily Be Created By A Gardener, A Farmer, A Plumber, A Careworker.

To Me There's No Difference Between Writing Ya And Adult Except That In Ya I Make The Book A Little Shorter And The Protagonists Are Teens. The Difference Is In The Readers.

But What The Evil People Do, That's Their Responsibility. The Burden They Have To Carry. Sure, When We See 'em Starting On Causing Some Hurt, We've Got To Try And Stop 'em, But Mostly What The Rest Of Us Should Be Concerning Ourselves With Is Doing Right By Others. Every Time You Do A Good Turn, You Shine The Light A Little Further Into The Dark. And The Thing Is, Even When We're Gone, That Light's Going To Keep Shining On, Pushing The Shadows Back.