People Might Think Writing Is A Hard

Better To Lose Oneself In Action Than To Wither In Despair.

In Each Man's Heart There Lies A Hole. A Dark Abyss Of Need, The Filling Of Which Takes Precedence Over All Else.

Time Had A Way Of Moulding People Into Shapes They Themselves No Longer Recognised.

I'm Good With Words, But Not The Spoken Kind; I've Often Thought What A Marvelous Thing It Would Be If I Could Only Conduct Relationships On Paper.

Gerry?' Laurel Had To Strain To Hear Thought The Noise On The Other End Of The Line. 'gerry? Where Are You?' 'london. A Phone Booth On Fleet Street.' 'the City Still Has Working Phone Booths?' 'it Would Appear So. Unless This Is The Tardis, In Which Case I'm In Serious Trouble.