The Happiness Of Others Is

He Lifted Me Up And Held Me Close Against Him, My Head On His Shoulder. At That Moment I Loved Him. In The Morning Light He Was As Golden, As Soft, As Gentle As Myself, And He Would Protect Me.

I've Tried Very Hard And I've Never Found Any Resemblance Between The People I Know And The People In My Novels.

We Are Torn Between The Craving To Know And The Despair Of Having Known.

A Love Affair Based On Jealousy Is Doomed From The Start ... It Is Certanly A Sign Of Love, But It's A Sign That It's Already Dying.

It Isn't Common Sense That Is Paramount In This World, It's Wishful Thinking.