Favors Are Always For Ourselves.

And Off In The Far Distance, The Gold On The Wings Of The Angel Atop The Bell Tower Of San Marco Flashed In The Sun, Bathing The Entire City In Its Glistening Benediction.

The Ending Is One Of My Blackest, Utterly Without Hope Of Any Sort.

I Never Wanted To Be Rich Or Successful Or Famous. I Just Wanted To Be Happy And Have Fun.

I Was Extraordinarily Lucky. I Wrote A Book Because I Wanted To See If I Could Write A Mystery. Someone Nagged Me Into Sending It To A Contest, Which It Won, After Which I Was Offered A Two-book Contract, Thus Requiring The Writing Of A Second Book.

This Is A Fallen World. People Lie, The Truth Gets Distorted, And That's The Way It Is. What's For Dinner ?