Everybody Will Die, But Very

Get Out Of My Way, You Cakesniffers!” Said A Rude, Violent, And Filthy Little Girl, Shoving The Baudelaire Orphans Aside As She Dashed By.

Reading Is One Form Of Escape. Running For Your Life Is Another.

It Is Not The Diamonds Or The Birds, The People Or The Potatoes, It Is Not Any Of The Nouns. The Miracle Is The Adverbs, The Way Things Are Done. It Is The Way Love Gets Done Despite Every Catastrophe.

Nobody Wants To Fall Into A Safety Net, Because It Means The Structure In Which They've Been Living Is In A State Of Collapse And They Have No Choice But To Tumble Downwards. However, It Beats The Alternative.

The Holiday Season Is A Time For Storytelling, And Whether You Are Hearing The Story Of A Candelabra Staying Lit For More Than A Week, Or A Baby Born In A Barn Without Proper Medical Supervision, These Stories Often Feature Miracles. Miracles Are Like Pimples, Because Once You Start Looking For Them You Find More Than You Ever Dreamed You'd See, And This Holiday Story Features Any Number Of Miracles, Depending On Your Point Of View.