What Kind Of A Maniac

Laying A Hand On His Heart, She Timed Its Beats To Her Own. And Knew The Truest Magic Was There.

Make A Life With Me, One That Comes From Love, One That I Can Watch Grow In You. Only A Fool Would Believe That What Comes From What We Have Together Would Be Anything But Beautiful.

She, As No Other Ever Could, Reached Every Corner Of His Heart. His Joy, And His Salvation.

My Fondest Wish, I Suppose, Would Be To Die At The Keyboard Right After Finishing A Book, Perhaps With A Little Time Off To Have Some Really Good Sex. It's Not, 'oh, Thank God, This Is Book No. 250. I Can Die Now.'

Life--you Have To Live It As It Comes.