The Dead Are Merely The Countrymen Of

I Love My Editor, But That Would Be The Definition Of Hell To Me To Live With Someone And Have Them Go Page By Page Through My Manuscript. That I Want To Avoid At All Costs.

It's Only Life. We All Get Through It.

Pain Is A Gift. Humanity, Without Pain, Would Know Neither Fear Nor Pity. Without Fear, There Could Be No Humility, And Every Man Would Be A Monster. The Recognition Of Pain And Fear In Others Give Rise In Us To Pity, And In Our Pity Is Our Humanity, Our Redemption.

Y'all Take Care Of Yourself Now... Strange And Interesting Friends Are Hard To Find.

She Lived For Others, Her Heart Tuned To Their Anguish And Their Needs.