She Stood In Front Of The Mirror

A Writer Soon Discovers He Has No Single Identity But Lives The Lives Of All The People He Creates And His Weathers Are Independent Of The Actual Day Around Him. I Live With The People I Create And It Has Always Made My Essential Loneliness Less Keen.

Some Men Are Heroes By Nature In That They Will Give All That Is In Them Without Regard To The Effort Or To The Personal Returns.

There Was Hope In Him, And Soon Perhaps The Outline Of His Journey Would Take Form.

There's Nothing That Makes You So Aware Of The Improvisation Of Human Existence As A Song Unfinished. Or An Old Address Book.

The Human Heart Is A Lonely Hunter-but The Search For Us Southerners Is More Anguished.