We're Still Expected To Color Within The

Hey,” The Cabbie Yelled. “how’s About A Tip?” “you Bet-ski,” Evie Said, Heading Toward The Old Victorian Mansion, Her Long Silk Scarf Trailing Behind Her. “don’t Kiss Strange Men In Penn Station.

When The World Moves Forward Too Fast For Some People, They Try To Pull Us All Back With Their Fear.

Why Does Anyone Do Anything? Belief. A Belief That They Are Right And Just In Their Actions. Abraham Was Willing To Sacrifice His Son, Isaac, Because He Believed That God Had Commanded It. To Kill Your Son Is Unthinkable. A Crime. But If You Are Acting In The Belief That Your God, Your Supreme Deity Whom You Must Obey, Has Demanded It Of You, Is It Still A Crime?

The Police Have Asked For My Help. There's Been A Murder." "a Murder! Oh, My. Let Me Just Change My Shoes," Evie Said Excitedly. "it Won't Be A Minute.

All Morning, Spence Has Been A Well-oiled Machine Of Activity. Everyone Doing Her Bit, Quietly And Efficiently. It's Strange How Deliberate People Are After A Death. All The Indecision Suddenly Vanishes Into Clear, Defined Moments--changing The Linens, Choosing A Dress Or A Hymn, The Washing Up, The Muttering Of Prayers. All The Small, Simple, Conscious Acts Of Living A Sudden Defense Against The Dying We Do Every Day.