Her Laughter Was A Shiny

I Don’t Know Why It Is That I Have Always Been Happier Thinking Of Somewhere I Have Been Or Wanted To Go, Than Where I Am At The Time. I Find It Difficult To Be Happy In The Present.

She Had So Mastered The Strategies Of Camouflage That Her Own History Had Seemed A Series Of Well-placed Mirrors That Kept Her Hidden From Herself.

When Men Talk About The Agony Of Being Men, They Can Never Quite Get Away From The Recurrent Theme Of Self-pity. And When Women Talk About Being Women, They Can Never Quite Get Away From The Recurrent Theme Of Blaming Men.

...when The Words Pour Out Of You Just Right, You Understand That These Sentences Are All Part Of A River Flowing Out Of Your Own Distant, Hidden Ranges, And All Words Become The Dissolving Snow That Feeds Your Mountain Streams Forever. The Language Locks Itself In The Icy Slopes Of Our Own High Passes, And It Is Up To Us, The Writers, To Melt The Glaciers Within Us. When These Glaciers Break Off, We Get To Call Them Novels, The Changelings Of Our Burning Spirits, Our Life's Work.

My Soul Grazes Like A Lamb On The Beauty Of An Indrawn Tide.