We Think Of Mortality So Little These

Our Entire Society Is Based On Discontent. People Wanting More And More And More. Being Constantly Dissatisfied With Their Homes, Their Bodies, Their Décor, Their Clothes, Everything – Taking It For Granted That That’s The Whole Point Of Life. Never To Be Satisfied. If You Are Perfectly Happy With What You Got, Especially If What You Got Isn’t Even All The Spectacular Then You’re Dangerous. You’re Breaking All The Rules. You’re Undermining The Sacred Economy. You’re Challenging Every Assumption That Society Is Built On.

Sometimes, When You're Close To Someone, You Miss Things. Other People Can See Them, But You Can't.

Here's A Little Tip For You. If You Don't Like Being Called A Murderer, Don't Kill People.

...and Our Footsteps Rang And Echoed Till It Sounded Like The Room Was Full Of Dancers, The House Calling Up All The People Who Had Danced Here Across Centuries Of Spring Evenings, Gallant Girls Seeing Gallant Boys Off To War, Old Men And Women Straight-backed While Outside Their World Disintegrated And The New One Battered At Their Doors, All Of Them Bruised And All Of Them Laughing, Welcoming Us Into Their Long Lineage.

The Thing About Being A Mystery Writer, What Marks A Mystery Writer Out From A Chick Lit Author Or Historical Fiction Writer, Is That You Always Find A Mystery In Every Situation.