A Writer Soon Discovers He Has No

I Do Not Have Any Home. So Why Should I Be Homesick?

Listen,” F. Jasmine Said. “what I’ve Been Trying To Say Is This. Doesn’t It Strike You As Strange That I Am I, And You Are You? I Am F. Jasmine Addams. And You Are Berenice Sadie Brown. And We Can Look At Each Other, And Touch Each Other, And Stay Together Year In And Year Out In The Same Room. Yet Always I Am I, And You Are You. And I Can’t Ever Be Anything Else But Me, And You Can Ever Be Anything Else But You. Have You Ever Thought Of That? And Does It Seem To You Strange?

Coming Down Was The Hardest Part Of Any Climbing.

Now Hoppin'-john Was F. Jasmine's Very Favorite Food. She Had Always Warned Them To Wave A Plate Of Rice And Peas Before Her Nose When She Was In Her Coffin, To Make Certain There Was No Mistake; For If A Breath Of Life Was Left In Her, She Would Sit Up And Eat, But If She Smelled The Hopping-john, And Did Not Stir, Then They Could Just Nail Down The Coffin And Be Certain She Was Truly Dead.

Love Is The Main Generator Of All Good Writing... Love, Passion, Compassion, Are All Welded Together.