The World Was An Awfully Large Place

The Happiest Folk Are Those That Are Busy, For Their Minds Are Starved Of Time To Seek Out Woe.

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

His Words Had Tossed The Book That Was Her Life Into The Air And The Pages Had Been Blown Into Disarray, Could Never Be Put Back Together To Tell The Same Story.

Hope, How She Had Grown To Hate The Word. It Was An Insideious Seed Planted Inside A Person's Soul, Surviving Covertly On Little Tending, Then Flowering So Spectacularly That None Could Help But Cherish It.

I'm Good With Words, But Not The Spoken Kind; I've Often Thought What A Marvelous Thing It Would Be If I Could Only Conduct Relationships On Paper.