But Souls Can't Be Sold. They Can

Sometimes You Just Have To Jump Out The Window And Grow Wings On The Way Down.

We Have Everything We Need To Be Happy, But We Aren't Happy. Something's Missing.

I Went To Bed And Woke In The Middle Of The Night Thinking I Heard Someone Cry, Thinking I Myself Was Weeping, And I Felt My Face And It Was Dry. Then I Looked At The Window And Thought: Why, Yes, It's Just The Rain, The Rain, Always The Rain, And Turned Over, Sadder Still, And Fumbled About For My Dripping Sleep And Tried To Slip It Back On.

The One Sure Way I Can Dishonor Myself Is By Worrying About My Reputation.

A Story Should Be Like A River, Flowing And Never Stopping, Your Readers Passengers On A Boat, Whirling Downstream Through Constantly Refreshing And Changing Scemery.