The Whole Thing's Illusion, [jacob], And There's

I Cling To My Anger With Every Ounce Of Humanity Left In My Ruined Body, But It's No Use. It Slips Away, Like A Wave From Shore. I Am Pondering This Sad Fact When I Realize The Blackness Of Sleep Is Circling My Head. It's Been There Awhile, Biding It's Time And Growing Closer With Each Revolution. I Give Up On Rage, Which At This Point Has Become A Formality, And Make A Mental Note To Get Angry Again In The Morning. Then I Let Myself Drift, Because There's Really No Fighting It.

After Sixty-one Years Together, She Simply Clutched My Hand And Exhaled.

Gorillas Are In Danger Of Being Wiped Out By The Ebola Virus. I Feel Like We Have Limited Time To Get To Know Them And Understand Them And They're Going To Disappear - That's Terrifically Sad. Wouldn't It Be Great If We Could Stop That?

I Scan The Room. Catherine Is Writing Quickly, Her Light Brown Hair Falling Over Her Face. She Is Left-handed, And Because She Writes In Pencil Her Left Arm Is Silver From Wrist To Elbow.

Juliet Is One Of Those Rare Novels That Has It All: Lush Prose, Tightly Intertwined Parallel Narratives, Intrigue, And Historical Detail All Set Against A Backdrop Of Looming Danger. Anne Fortier Casts A New Light On One Of History's Greatest Stories Of Passion. I Was Swept Away.