She Was A Natural Blonde, With Delicate

Writers, Unlike Most People, Tell Their Best Lies When They Are Alone.

With Patience And Calm, Persistence And Stoicism, Good Handwriting And Careful Labeling, They Would Meet Persecution, Indignity, And Hardship Head-on.

There Was Something Unmistakably Exultant About The Mess That Rosa Had Made. Her Bedroom-studio Was At Once The Canvas, Journal, Museum, And Midden Of Her Life. She Did Not “decorate” It; She Infused It.

I'm Never Going To Be A Tom Clancy. And I Wouldn't Really Want To Be - Not That I Have Anything Against Him, And I Wish Him Continued Success - Because That's Not Why I'm Writing Novels. I'm Doing It Because I Have To. I Feel Like I Have To, Anyway.

Never Say Love Is "like" Anything... It Isn't.