It's A Terrible Thing, Isn't It, The

I Probably Coughed Self-pityingly In Response, Little Aware That I Was About To Cross A Tremendous Threshold Beyond Which There Would Be No Return, That In My Hands I Held An Object Whose Simple Appearance Belied Its Profound Power. All True Readers Have A Book, A Moment, Like The One I Describe, And When Mum Offered Me That Much-read Library Copy Mine Was Upon Me.

But Happiness ... Happiness Grows At Our Own Firesides," She Said. "it Is Not To Be Picked In Strangers' Gardens." ~ The House At Riverton

She's One Of The Few People Able To Look Beyond The Lines On My Face To See The Twenty-year-old Who Lives Inside.

I Write What I'd Like To Read And Just Hope That, Along The Way, Others Might Like To Read Them, Too.

Rejection Is A Cancer, Edie. It Eats Away At A Person.