I Love To Read Aloud.

Meggie Folchart: Having Writer's Block? Maybe I Can Help. Fenoglio: Oh Yes, That's Right. You Want To Be A Writer, Don't You? Meggie Folchart: You Say That As If It's A Bad Thing. Fenoglio: Oh No, It's Just A Lonely Thing. Sometimes The World You Create On The Page Seems More Friendly And Alive Than The World You Actually Live In.

Fire And Water," He Said, "don't Really Mix. You Could Say They're Incompatible. But When They Do Love Each Other, They Love Passionately.

Words Were Useless. At Times, They Might Sound Wonderful, But They Let You Down The Moment You Really Needed Them. You Could Never Find The Right Words, Never, And Where Would You Look For Them? The Heart Is As Silent As A Fish, However Much The Tongue Tries To Give It A Voice.

Nothing Is More Frightening Than A Fear You Cannot Name.

Desperate? So What? I'm Desperate, Too!" Fenoglio Snapped At Her. "my Story Is Foundering In Misfortune, And These Hands Here," He Said Holding Them Out To Her, "don't Want To Write Anymore! I'm Afraid Of Words Meggie! 'once They Were Like Honey, Now They're Poison, Pure Poison! But What Is A Writer Who Doesn't Love Words Anymore? What Have I Come To? This Story Is Devouring Me, Crushing Me, And I'm It's Creator!