I Write Out Of Revenge.

I Can't Keep My Head Above Water One Minute To The Next: It's Not Just The Parties And The Goo-gooing With What's-her-name, I've Got The Decide How Long The Five Hundredth Anniversary Parade Is Going To Be And Where Does It Start And When Does It Start And Which Nobleman Gets To March In Front Of Which Other Nobleman So That Everyone's Still Speaking To Me At The End Of It, Plus I've Got A Wife To Murder And A Country To Frame For It, Plus I've Got To Get The War Going Once That's All Happened, And All This Is Stuff I've Got To Do Myself. Here's What It All Comes Down To: I'm Just Swamped, Ty.

Look. (grown-ups Skip This Paragraph) I'm Not About To Tell You This Book Has A Tragic Ending. I Already Said In The Very First Line How It Was My Favorite In All The World. But There's A Lot Of Bad Stuff Coming.

A Good Writer Is Not Someone Who Knows How To Write- But How To Rewrite

Love Is Many Things None Of Them Logical.

I Love You,” Buttercup Said. “i Know This Must Come As Something Of A Surprise, Since All I’ve Ever Done Is Scorn You And Degrade You And Taunt You, But I Have Loved You For Several Hours Now, And Every Second, More.