Things Are Rough All Over.

My Boyfriend Suggested I Write Two Pages A Day. He Wouldn't Take Me Out If I Hadn't Done My Two Pages. That's How I Wrote My Second Novel.

The Difference Is That Was Then, This Is Now.

Your Mother Is Not Crazy. Neither, Contrary To Popular Belief, Is Your Brother. He Is Merely Miscast In A Play. He Would Have Made The Perfect Knight In A Different Century, Or A Very Good Pagan Prince In A Time Of Heroes. He Was Born In The Wrong Era, On The Wrong Side Of The River, With The Ability To Do Anything And Finding Nothing He Wants To Do.

It's Okay. We Aren't In The Same Class. Just Don't Forget That Some Of Us Watch The Sunset Too.

I Advise Writing To Oneself. If You Don't Want To Read It, Nobody Else Is Going To Read It.