He Had Loved Too Much, Demanded Too

For Her Everything Was Red, Orange, Gold-red From The Sun On The Closed Eyes, And It All Was That Color, All Of It, The Filling, The Possessing, The Having, All Of That Color, All In A Blindness Of That Color." - Ernest Hemingway.

Fish," He Said Softly, Aloud, "i'll Stay With You Until I Am Dead.

How Would That Premise Stand Up If He Examined It? That Was Probably Why The Communists Were Always Cracking Down On Bohemiansism. When You Were Drunk Or When You Committed Adultery You Recognised Your Own Personal Fallability Of That So Mutable Substitute For The Apostles' Creed, The Party Line. Down With Bohemianism, The Sin Of Majakowski.

There Are Two Kinds Of Stories, The Ones You Live And The Ones You Make Up. And Nobody Knows The Difference, And I Don't Ever Tell Which Is Which.

To Be Successful In Writing, Use Short Sentences.