Writing Is A Form Of

-she Remembered Them Kindly, For There Was A Sweetness In Boys That Didn't Last Long, Once They Became Men.

Yesterday's Gone On Down The River And You Can't Get It Back.

The Only Bookstore I Had Was The Paperback Rack At The Drugstore.

Certainly On The Vast Windy Plain, There Was Plenty Of Nothing To Be Looked At.

Self-parody Is The First Portent Of Age.