Oh, There Was Harm Indeed For A

The Prospect Of An Early Death Sits Differently Upon Each Person. In Some It Gifts Maturity Far Outweighing Their Age And Experience: Calm Acceptance Blossoms Into A Beautiful Nature And Soft Countenance. In Others, However, It Leads To The Formation Of A Tiny Ice Flint In Their Heart. Ice That, Though At Times Concealed, Never Properly Melts. Rose, Though She Would Have Liked To Be One Of The Former, Knew Herself Deep Down To Be One Of The Latter.

It Didn't Occur To Him That She Might Have Chosen To Remain This Way. That Where He Saw Reserve And Loneliness, Cassandra Saw Self-preservation And The Knowledge That It Was Safer When One Had Less To Lose.

I Am Not A Storyteller . . . Not Like The Others. I Only Have One Tale To Tell.

You Must Learn To Know The Difference Between Tales And The Truth, My Liza, She Would Say. Fairy Tales Have A Habit Of Ending Too Soon. They Never Show What Happens Afterwards When The Prince And Princess Ride Off The Page.

I'd Pretty Much Given Up Hope Of Being Published, So I Just Wrote The Book I Wanted To Read.