Sad Stories Make Good Books

If Thou Art Indeed My Father, Then Hast Thou Stained Thy Sword In The Life-blood Of Thy Son. And Thous Didst It Of Thine Obstinacy. For I Sought To Turn Thee Unto Love, And I Implored Of Thee Thy Name, For I Thought To Behold In Thee The Tokens Recounted Of My Mother. But I Appealed Unto Thy Heart In Vain, And Now Is The Time Gone For Meeting.

I Have This Almost Pathological Fear Of Boring The Reader.

Like A Compass Needle That Points North, A Man's Accusing Finger Always Finds A Woman. Always.

Her Beauty Was The Talk Of The Valley.it Skipped Two Generations Of Women In Our Family, But It Sure Didn't Bypass You, Laila.

Children Aren't Coloring Books. You Don't Get To Fill Them With Your Favorite Colors.