Force A Hand, The Voice Warned, And

She Cried For The Life She Could Not Control. She Cried For The Mentor Who Had Died Before Her Eyes. She Cried For The Profound Loneliness That Filled Her Heart. But, Above All, She Cried For The Future ... Which Suddenly Felt So Uncertain.

I Don't Know Where I Would Place Myself In The Literary Landscape. I Really Just Write The Book That I Would Want To Read. And I Put On The Blinders, And I Really - It Is, For Me, That Simple.

Truth Has Power. And If We All Gravitate Toward Similar Ideas, Maybe We Do So Because Those Ideas Are True...written Deep Within Us. And When We Hear The Truth, Even If We Don't Understand It, We Feel That Truth Resonate Within Us...vibrating With Our Unconscious Wisdom. Perhaps The Truth Is Not Learned By Us, But Rather, The Truth Is Re-called...re-membered...-re-cognized...as That Which Is Already Inside Us.

I Write Slowly. I Actually Write Quickly, But I Throw Out So Much Material.

The More Science I Studied, The More I Saw That Physics Becomes Metaphysics And Numbers Become Imaginary Numbers. The Farther You Go Into Science, The Mushier The Ground Gets. You Start To Say, 'oh, There Is An Order And A Spiritual Aspect To Science.