How Many Mistakes Can One Life Survive?

I Smell Pancakes," Al Said As He Jauntily Smacked Pierce's Hat Back On The Witch's Head. "did The Runt Make You Breakfast?" Al Said, Leaning Over The Stove. "quickest Way To A Woman's Crotch Is Through Her Gullet, Eh?" He Said, Leering At Pierce, Who Was Now Rinsing Out The Percolator. "is It Working? I'd Be Curious To Know. I'd Buy Her A Cake Or Something.

She Had Given Me A Piece Of What Made Her Life Sane.

We Were Innocent Once. How Could It Have Gone So Bad?

I've Found That When I'm Having Trouble Solidifying A Character Or A Scene, That Music Will Often Free My Subconscious Just That Last Little Bit To Allow Me To Move Forward, And Often It's In A Direction That I Didn't Expect, But Is 100 Percent True To The Character.

A Slow Smile Curved Over My Face, And I Leaned Down Over Him. "no," I Said. "wishes Are Lies. Tell Me You're Going To Leave. Tell Me You're Not Going To Stay. Tell Me That It's Only For A While So I Can Enjoy Today," I Whispered In His Ear, As If Saying It Louder Would Break Me. "and When You Go, Don't Think Me Cold When I Don't Cry. I Can't Cry Anymore, Pierce. It Hurts Too Much.