...there Remained A Strange Formality Between Them,

We Kings Do Develop A Certain Ability To Recognize Objects Under Our Noses.

It Seems To Me Further, That It Is Very Odd That Fate Should Leave So Careful A Trail, And Spend So Little Time Preparing The One That Must Follow It.

Oh,' She Said, Too Bone-weary To Pretend: 'i Would Far Rather That I Love You As I Saw Yesterday I Do Than That I Had Gone On Worshiping You As I Did Not Long Since.' And She Turned Away Hastily, And Did Not See That Little John Would Reach Out To Her; And Half-running, Went To Tuck's Cottage, Where She Could Pull On Her Half-dry Clothes, And Become A Proper Outlaw Again. At Least, She Thought, Fighting Back Tears, Like This I Am Cecil, With A Place Among Friends, And A Task To Do. I Am Someone. I Wonder If Perhaps If I Am No Longer Cecil, I Am No One At All.

Why Do You Tell Me... So Much?" Luthe Considered Her. "i Tell You... Some You Need To Know, And Some You Have Earned The Right To Know, And Some It Won't Hurt You To Know--" He Stopped.... "some Things I Tell You Only Because I Wish To Tell Them To You.

For Anyone Who Is: Just Keep Writing. Keep Reading. If You Are Meant To Be A Writer, A Storyteller, It'll Work Itself Out. You Just Keep Feeding It Your Energy, And Giving It That Crucial Chance To Work Itself Out. By Reading And Writing.