Life Is What You Celebrate. All Of

Happiness. Simple As A Glass Of Chocolate Or Tortuous As The Heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.

Drunkeness, She Told Us In A Rare Moment Of Confidence, Is A Sin Against The Fruit, The Tree, The Wine Itself. Wine, Distilled And Nurtured From Bud Into Fruit; It Deserves Reverance. Joy. Gentleness. (page 194.)

Their Love Was Something Which Coloured The Air Between Them Like Sunlight.

You Don't Write Because Someone Sets Assignments! You Write Because You Need To Write, Or Because You Hope Someone Will Listen Or Because Writing Will Mend Something Broken Inside You Or Bring Something Back To Life.

Sheep Are Not The Docile, Pleasant Creatures Of The Pastoral Idyll. Any Countryman Will Tell You That. They Are Sly, Occasionally Vicious, Pathologically Stupid. The Lenient Shepherd May Find His Flock Unruly, Definant. I Cannot Afford To Be Lenient.