We Live, We Die. Somewhere Along The

As Long As We Remember A Person, They're Not Really Gone. Their Thoughts, Their Feelings, Their Memories, They Become A Part Of Us.

Even On The Darkest Night, My Friend, Life Will Have Its Way.

Because That's What Heaven Is...it's Opening The Door Of A House In Twilight And Everyone You Love Is There.

A Baby Was A Fact. It Was A Being With A Mind And A Nature, And You Could Feel About It Any Way You Liked, But A Baby Wouldn't Care. Just By Existing, It Demanded That You Believe In A Future: The Future It Would Crawl In, Walk In, Live In. A Baby Was A Piece Of Time; It Was A Promise You Made That The World Made Back To You.

So, Whenever I'm Writing, I'm Writing In The Presence Of All The Other Books I've Read And I Think We All Are.