She Feels And She Cries.

I Wanted To Be A Writer That Had An Impact. I Wanted, And Still I Say The Same Thing, I Want To Write Books That Change People's Lives, Change How We Think And Live And Read And Write. I Wanna Write Books That Are Read In 50 Or 100 Years.

We Stare Into Each Other's Eyes And Softly Kiss Speaking And Saying More With The Movement Of Our Lips And The Tips Of Our Fingers Than Words Will Allow Us To Say. Words Can't Say This. The One Word Love Means Too Little For What It Is. It Means Everything And That Is Still Not Enough. It Doesn't Communicate Even A Fraction Of The Feelings Involved. Love. The Word Is Not Enough For What It Is. Love. Love.

In My Mind My Obituary Is Done.it Is Done And It Is Right. It Tells The Truth And As Awful As It Can Be, The Truth Is What Matters. It Is What I Should Be Remembered By, If I'm Remembered At All. Remember The Truth. That Is All That Matters

On My First Day In Jail, A Three Hundred Pound Man Named Porterhouse Hit Me In The Back Of The Head With A Metal Tray. I Was Standing In Line For Lunch And I Didn't See It Coming. I Went Down. When I Got Up, I Turned Around And Started Throwing Punches." (james Frey, Pg.1)

I Always Wanted To Be The Outlaw. And That's To A Certain Extent How I've Lived.