I Wouldna Cross The Road To See

I Meant It, Claire,' He Said Quietly. 'my Life Is Yours. And It's Yours To Decide What We Shall Do, Where We Go Next. To France, To Italy, Even Back To Scotland. My Heart Has Been Yours Since First I Saw Ye, And You've Held My Soul And Body Between Your Two Hands Here, And Kept Them Safe. We Shall Go As Ye Say.

I Don't Plot The Books Out Ahead Of Time, I Don't Plan Them. I Don't Begin At The Beginning And End At The End. I Don't Work With An Outline And I Don't Work In A Straight Line.

Lying On The Floor, With The Carved Panels Of The Ceiling Flickering Dimly Above, I Found Myself Thinking That I Had Always Heretofore Assumed That The Tendency Of Eigh­teenth-century Ladies To Swoon Was Due To Tight Stays; Now I Rather Thought It Might Be Due To The Idiocy Of Eighteenth-century Men.

I'll Scream!" "likely. If Not Before, Certainly During. I Expect They'll Hear Ye At The Next Farm; You've Got Good Lungs.

Knowing That Everything Is Possible Suddenly Nothing Is Necessary.