Lord, Let Me Heed The Angels You

Reading Asks That You Bring Your Whole Life Experience And Your Ability To Decode The Written Word And Your Creative Imagination To The Page And Be A Co-author With The Writer, Because The Story Is Just Squiggles On The Page Unless You Have A Reader.

What I Really Want To Do Is To Write A Hilarious Farce.

Everything Comes In Useful Once In A Hundred Years.

My Heart Is Heavy, She Thought. It’s Not Just A Saying. It Is What Is—heavy, A Great Stone Lodged In My Breast, Pressing Down My Whole Being. How Can I Even Stand Straight And Look Out Upon The World? I Am Doubled Over Into Myself And, For All The Weight, Find Only Emptiness.

Youth Is A Mortal Wound.