I Imagined It. I Wrote It. But

She Looked At His Young Face, So Full Of Concern And Tenderness; And She Remembered Why She Had Run Away From Everyone Else And Sought Solitude Here. She Yearned To Kiss Him, And She Saw The Answering Longing In His Eyes. Every Fiber Of Her Body Told Her To Throw Herself Into His Arms, But She Knew What She Had To Do. She Wanted To Say, I Love You Like A Thunderstorm, Like A Lion, Like A Helpless Rage; But Instead She Said: "i Think I'm Going To Marry Alfred.

I Am Very Fond Of Edith Wharton. She's Quite High Brow But Also A Great Storyteller. My Favorite Is 'the House Of Mirth.' I Also Like 'the Reef.

After A Certain Point, Most People, Including Editors, Will Tell You Everything You Do Is Great.

The Boundary Between Philosophy And Fiction Is Not As Clear Cut As You May Think And The Two Definitely Interact.

But Desperate People Find Courage.