But Once You Throw A

In Half Hour My Mother Has Managed To Give Me What My Father Couldn't: My Past.

The Weapons An Author Has At Her Disposal Are Flawed. There Are Words That Feel Shapeless And Overused. Love, For Example. I Could Write The Word Love A Thousand Times And It Would Mean A Thousand Different Things To Different Readers.

No, Honestly, My Mouth Shouldn't Be Able To Function Unless My Brain's Engaged.

Lie To Yourself Until It's True.

It's Choice That Makes Us Human.