Actually, I Find It Great Fun To

I Generally Write A First Draft That's Pretty Lean. Just Get The Story Down.

Love Is Not Enough. But, It Is The Rock On Which All Else Stands.

Phillip Look Into Ray's Eyes. He Saw Compassion And Hope. And He Saw Himself Mirrored Back, Bleeding In A Dirty Gutter On A Street Where Life Was Worth Less Than A Dime Bag. Sick, Tired, Petrified, Phillip Dropped His Head Into His Hands. "what's The Point?" "you're The Point, Son." Ray Ran His Hand Over Phillip's Hair. "you're The Point.

Life--you Have To Live It As It Comes.

So, You’re Hitting On Clare The Fair.” “i’m Not Hitting On Her. I’m Exploring The Possibility Of Seeing Her On Social Terms.” “he’s Hitting On Her,” Owen Said Around A Mouthful Of Chips. “you’ve Still Got That Thing You Had For Her Back In High School. Are You Still Writing Bad Song Lyrics About Heartbreak?” “suck Me. And They Weren’t That Bad.” “yeah, They Were,” Ryder Disagreed. “but At Least Now We Don’t Have To Listen To You Playing Your Keyboard And Howling Them Down The Hall.