The Process Of Writing Is

I Think Everybody Has A Secret Life.

Guilleaume Left La Praline With A Small Bag Of Florentines In His Pocket; Before He Had Turned The Corner Of Avenue Des Francs Bourgeois I Saw Him Stoop To Offer One To The Dog. A Pat, A Bark, A Wagging Of The Short Stubby Tail. As I Said, Some People Never Have To Think About Giving.

She Always Had That About Her, That Look Of Otherness, Of Eyes That See Things Much Too Far, And Of Thoughts That Wander Off The Edge Of The World.

A Named Thing Is A Tamed Thing.

I Have A Tendency To Pick Up My Own Challenges. The More Difficult Something It Is, The More I Want To Try It.