True Love Comes Quietly, Without Banners Or

Something May Have Been Lost In Translation, But It Certainly Wasn't Love

Some Were Brilliant Bordering On Genius. Others, Genius Bordering On Madness

But What Does He Do To Qualify As A Sonovabitch?” Jenny Asked. “make Me”, I Replied. “beg Pardon?” “make Me”, I Repeated. Her Eyes Widened Like Saucers. “you Mean Like Incest?” She Asked. “don’t Give Me Your Family Problems, Jen. I Have Enough Of My Own.” “like What, Oliver?” She Asked, “like Just What Is It He Makes You Do?” “the ‘right Things’”, I Said. “what’s Wrong With The ‘right Things’?” She Asked, Delighting In The Apparent Paradox.

I Was Afraid Of Being Rejected, Yes. I Was Also Afraid Of Being Accepted For The Wrong Reasons.

Quiet Heroism Or Youthful Idealism, Or Both? What Do We Know? That Life Without Heroism And Idealism Is Not Worth Living - Or That Either Can Be Fatal?