I Don't See Novels Ending With Any

Love Is The Use One Makes Of Another.

Before The Real City Could Be Seen It Had To Be Imagined, The Way Rumours And Tall Tales Were A Kind Of Charting.

All This Beethoven And Rain

...the Heart Is An Organ Of Fire.

If She Were A Writer She Would Collect Her Pencils And Notebooks And Favourite Cat And Write In Bed. Strangers And Lovers Would Never Get Past The Locked Door.