I Will Die Like A True-blue Rebel.

She Breathed Deeply Of The Scent Of Decaying Fiction, Disintegrating History, And Forgotten Verse, And She Observed For The First Time That A Room Full Of Books Smelled Like Dessert: A Sweet Snack Made Of Figs, Vanilla, Glue, And Cleverness.

Aren't You Going To Tell Me I'm Not So Bad? She Asked. Mmm-no. I Was Thinking How Every Man Loves A Hot Girl With A History Of Making Mistakes. Because It's Always Possible She'll Make One With You.

I Will Be Waiting By Candlelight In Our Tree House Of The Mind.

You'll Have Pie In The Sky When You Die.

You Think You Know Someone. But Mostly You Just Know What You Want To Know.