It Was Too Important A

The Lone Ranger Of Vampires. Did That Make Me Tonto?

And If My Choice Is To Sit Graciously In My Best Robes And Accept The Inevitable Or To Bail A Sea With A Bucket, Give Me The Bucket.

Betrayal Would Be A Different Sort Of Sick.

...like A Grain Of Sand That Gets Into An Oyster's Shell. What If The Grain Doesn't Want To Become A Pearl? Is It Ever Asked To Climb Out Quietly And Take Up Its Old Position As A Bit Of Ocean Floor?

At Least I Was True. My Intellectual Abilities Gave Me A Release, And An Excuse. I Shunned Company Because I Preferred Books; And The Dreams I Confided To My Father Were Of Becoming A Scholar In Good Earnest, And Going To University. It Was Unheard-of Several Shocked Governesses Were Only Too Quick To Tell Me, When I Spoke A Little Too Boldly -- But My Father Nodded And Smiled And Said, 'we'll See.' Since I Believed My Father Could Do Anything -- Except Of Course Make Me Pretty -- I Worked And Studied With Passionate Dedication, Lived In Hope, And Avoided Society And Mirrors.