How Can My Ankles And Arms Be

Beggin' Your Pardon, Miss, But I Was Told You Be The One To Help Me Cross On To The Next World." "who Told You This?" His Eyes Widen. "a Fearsome Creature With A Head Full Of Snakes!" "you Musn't Fear Her," I Say, Taking The Man's Hand And Leading His Toward The River. "she's As Tame As A Pussycat. She'd Probably Lick Your Hand Given The Chance." "didn't Seem Harmless," He Whispers, Shuddering. "yes, Well, Things Are Not Always As They Appear, Sir, And We Must Learn To Judge For Ourselves.

I Hate High Heels. Walking In High Heels For Eight Hours A Day Should Be Forbidden By The Geneva Convention.

It Isn't That We Do What We Want. It's That We're Allowed To Want At All.

Why Is It That Some Secrets Can Drown You While Some Pull You Close To Others In A Way You Never Want To Lose?

We're In English Class, Which For Most Of Us Is An Excruciating Exercise In Staying Awake Through The Great Classics Of Literature. These Works - Groundbreaking, Incendiary, Timeless - Have Been Pureed By The Curriculum Monsters Into A Digestible Pabulum Of Themes And Factoids We Can Spew Back On A Test. Scoring Well On Tests Is The Sort Of Happy Thing That Gets The School District The Greenbacks They Crave. Understanding And Appreciating The Material Are Secondary.