In Small Towns People Scent The Wind

I Tend To Scare Myself.

...they Came To See What Happened To Their Town, To See If It Was Indeed Lying Burnt And Bleeding. Many Of Them Also Came To Die.

The Past Is Obdurate.

You Cannot Friend A Hawk, They Said, Unless You Are A Hawk Yourself, Alone And Only A Sojourner In The Land, Without Friends Or The Need Of Them.

I Can't Lie And Say There Are No Bad Writers. Sorry, But There Are Lots Of Bad Writers.