Jen, We Did It. Everyone's Free Now.

I Like Playing Around With The Words; I Love It When I Feel Like I've Picked The Exact Right Word To Describe Whatever It Is I'm Trying To Describe

Maybe Everyone Is Just Waiting For Someone Else To Save Them.

When Writing Isn't Going Well-then The Bad Thing About Being A Writer Is That I Also Have The Freedom And Flexibility To Do Something Badly, And No One Else Can Fix It For Me.

A Ssure You, The More I Travel Through Time, The More I Witness, The More I Realize That There Are Things That Are Both Strange And Wonderful, Far Beyond Human Comprehension.

A Thousand Times Today I've Started To Open My Mouth, Started To Squeak Out, "can You Tell Me...? But Then I'd Look Into The Front Seat, At My Mother's Silent Shaking, My Father's Grim Profile, The Mournful Bags Under His Eyes, And All The Questions I Might Ask Seemed Abusive. Assault And Battery, A Question Mark Used Like A Club. My Parents Are Old And Fragile. I'd Have To Heartless To Want To Hurt Them.