Thank God I'm In England,

I'm Friends With A Lot Of Writers And So Many Of Them Say How Much They Hate Signings And How They Leave After A Certain Period Of Time. But What Is So Hard About Sitting There While People Tell You How Much They Love You? And If You Don't Like It, Well, Learn To Like It. I Try To Take One Person At A Time. I Never Look Down The Line To See How Many More People Are Left. And I Always Try To Make People Talk About Something Besides Whatever They Planned To Say.

I Hate You' She Said To Me One Afternoon. 'i Really, Really Hate You.' Call Me Sensitive, But I Couldn't Help But Take It Personally.

Weird Doors Open. People Fall Into Things.

When Her Muzzle Grew More White Than Brown, The Chipmunk Forgot That She And The Squirrel Had Had Nothing To Talk About. She Forgot The Definition Of "jazz" As Well And Came To Think Of It As Every Beautiful Thing She Had Ever Failed To Appreciate: The Taste Of Warm Rain; The Smell Of A Baby; The Din Of A Swollen River, Rushing Past Her Tree And Onward To Infinity.

People Discuss Their Relationships All The Time, But You Can't. I Don't Think People Realize How Harmful That Is, How It Twists You Up To Hide Who You Are. It's Not Healthy, And The Great Gains That Homosexuals Have Made In My Lifetime, I Think That We'll Look Back In Twenty Or Thirty Years And Say, "i Can't Believe We Ever Made Them Go Through That."