The Weapons An Author Has At Her

Is Fate Getting What You Deserve, Or Deserving What You Get?

Close A Door, And You'd Still Feel A Breeze Through The Window.

What I Really Want To Tell Him Is To Pick Up That Baby Of His And Hold Her Tight, To Set The Moon On The Edge Of Her Crib And To Hang Her Name Up In The Stars.

I Know You Love Me. The Question Is, How Much?

The Night Is Falling Down Around Us. Meteors Rain Like Fireworks, Quick Rips In The Seam Of The Dark... Every Second, Another Streak Of Silver Glows: Parentheses, Exclamation Points, Commas - A Whole Grammar Made Of Light, For Words Too Hard To Speak.