Not Everyone Writes Well From A Child's

I Think That If People Are Instructed About Anything, It Should Be About The Nature Of Cruelty. And About Why People Behave So Cruelly To Each Other. And What Kind Of Satisfactions They Derive From It. And Why There Is Always A Cost, And A Price To Be Paid.

My Dad Had This Rock Hard Body And Would Work 12- To 13-hour Days. The Guys He Worked With Were Scrap-iron Guys. Nobody On That Road Crew Had Read A Book In 10 Years, But There Was Something About The Way They Lived I Really Admired.

It's No Secret That In My Books I'm Trying To Make The Comic And The Serious Rub Up Against Each Other Just As Closely And Uncomfortably As I Can.

What If All Everybody Needed In The World Was To Be Sure Of One Friend? What If You Were The One, And You Refused To Say Those Simple Words?

Since Her Retirement From Teaching Miss Beryl's Health Had In Many Respects Greatly Improved, Despite Her Advancing Years. An Eighth-grade Classroom Was An Excellent Place To Snag Whatever Was In The Air In The Way Of Illness. Also Depression, Which, Miss Beryl Believed, In Conjunction With Guilt, Opened The Door To Illness. Miss Beryl Didn't Know Any Teachers Who Weren't Habitually Guilty And Depressed-guilty They Hadn't Accomplished More With Their Students, Depressed That Very Little More Was Possible.