One Way An Author Dies

I Have Stayed These Years In My Hovel Because Of You. I Have Taught Myself Languages Because Of You. I Have Made My Body Strong Because I Thought You Might Be Pleased By A Strong Body. I Have Lived My Life With Only The Prayer That Some Sudden Dawn You Might Glance In My Direction. I Have Not Known A Moment In Years When The Sight Of You Did Not Send My Heart Careening Against My Rib Cage. I Have Not Known A Night When Your Visage Did Not Accompany Me To Sleep. There Has Not Been A Morning When You Did Not Flutter Behind My Waking Eyelids.

You Seem A Decent Fellow," Inigo Said. "i Hate To Kill You." You Seem A Decent Fellow," Answered The Man In Black. "i Hate To Die.

The Infant Is Ten And He Stays.

I Write Out Of Revenge.

Westley Closed His Eyes. There Was Pain Coming And He Had To Be Ready For It. He Had To Prepare His Brain, He Had To Get His Mind Controlled And Safe From Their Efforts, So That They Could Not Break Him. He Would Not Let Them Break Him. He Would Hold Together Against Anything And All. If Only They Gave Him Sufficient Time To Make Ready, He Knew He Could Defeat Pain. It Turned Out They Gave Him Sufficient Time (it Was Months Before The Machine Was Ready). But They Broke Him Anyway.