Sometimes It Can Be Useful To Read

I Can't Even Tell You What Else I Imagined. I Can Only Humiliate Myself To Such A Degree; At A Certain Point It Becomes Humorous, And This Story Is Not Meant To Be Humorous. This Story Is Meant To Winch Your Ribs Open And Tamper With Your Heart. This Story Is Meant To Make You Realize That Your Chances Of Happiness In This World Are Terribly Slim If You Lack A Fine Imagination.

It's Fascinating To Imagine Two Successful Writers In One House. But When You Think About It, It Isn't Very Unusual. In Fact, So Many Writers Have Writer Spouses.

I Like Playing With A Popular Cliché And Making It My Own By Half-embracing It, Half-disemboweling It.

Like Semmering Academy, The Grove School Was A Gothic Pile Of Bricks Run By 1950s-era Chalk Drones, Which Maintained Its Cultural Viability By Perpetuating A Weirdly Seductive Anxiety Throughout Its Community. Mary Herself Was A Victim Of The Seduction; Despite The Trying And Repetitive Emotional Requirements Of Her Job, She Remained Eternally Fascinated By The Wicker-thin Girls And Their Wicker-thin Mothers, All Of Them Favoring Dark Wool Skirts And Macintoshes And Unreadably Far-away Expressions; If She Squinted, They Could Have Emerged Intact From Any Of The Last Seven Decades.

I Am Simply Looking For A Companion With Whom To Spend My Days, A Companion Who Will Cherish As Much As I The Stupidity Of Living In The Moment, And Spend Every Dull, Amazing Second With Me.