Pain Is Fear, And I'm Not Afraid.

Bridget Cried For The Leavers And The Left. For The People, Like Herself, Grimly Forsaking What Precious Gifts They Would Ever Get.

She Knew Whose Love She Doubted. It Wasn't Her Parents' And It Wasn't Her Friends: It Was Her Own.

As A Writer, You Live In Such Isolation. It's Hard To Imagine Your Book Has A Life Beyond You.

When There Is Nothing, There Is The Possibility Of Everything.

A Tree Is Such A Rich Metaphor In A Million Beautiful Ways. You Can Consider A Tree Growing And Consider Its Connectedness To All Things Above And Under The Ground.