Everything Is Randomly Connected.

Please Do Not Strain Yourself, Miss Doyle. I Won't Have My Girls Going Cross-eyed In The Name Of Art.

We've Barley Stepped Into The Bright Glow Of The Realms When Everything Goes Dark.

We Sit And Listen And Are Enthralled Anew, For Good Stories, It Seems, Never Lose Their Magic.

She Was Too Much—for Zenith, Ohio. She’d Tried At Times To Make Herself Smaller, To Fit Neatly Into The Ordered Lines Of Expectation. But Somehow, She Always Managed To Say Or Do Something Outrageous—she’d Accept A Dare To Climb A Flagpole, Or Make A Slightly Risqué Joke, Or Go Riding In Cars With Boys—and Suddenly She Was “that Awful O’neill Girl” All Over Again.

She's No Beauty, Mate