The Thing I Love About Dickens Is

She Followed The Pleasure Where It Led. She Had No Weight, No Name, No Thoughts, No History. Then Came A Burst Of Phosphorescence, As Though A Firework Had Discharged Behind Her Eyes, And It Was Over. She Felt Quiet And Warm. For The First Conscious Moment Of Her Life, Her Mind Was Free From Wonder, Free From Worry, Free From Work Or Puzzlement. Then, From The Middle Of That Marvelous Furred Stillness, A Thought Took Shape, Took Hold, Took Over. I Shall Have To Do This Again.

When It Seemed Like I Was Going To Really Have To Be There At Todd's [willingham] Execution, I Don't Think I Could Have Done It. I Think I Began To Distance Myself. I Didn't Visit As Often; I Didn't Write As Often. This Was Kind Of After My Conversation With [fire Science Expert] Gerald Hurst. And The [car] Accident Made Sure That I Didn't Have To Go Up There. But I Think He And I Both Shared That.

All Of Women's Stories In The 19th Century Had Either One Of Two Endings: You Either Had The Good Jane Austen Marriage At The End And You Were Happy; Or You Had The Terrible Henry James Savage Downfall Because Of Your Own Hubris As A Woman, Or You've Made Some Great Error Leading You Down A Path To Ruin. One Is The Story Of Love That's Successful And The Other Is The Story Usually Of Reckless Love That Goes Terribly Wrong That Destroys The Woman.

You Have No Idea How Strong My Love Is!

Addiction Is The Hallmark Of Every Infatuation-based Love Story.