Because Of Fear, They Made Shelter And

The Writer After All Is Only Half The Book, The Other Half Is The Reader.

What If They Were Allowed To Choose Their Own Mate? And Chose Wrong?

Mama Was Crying, And The Rain Made It Seem As If The Whole World Was Crying.

I Don't Read Young Adult Or Children's Books, Now That My Grandchildren Are Beyond The Age Of My Reading To Them. I Read Reviews, And So I'm Aware Of What's Out There. But I Tend Not To Read The Books.

Sometimes I Wish They'd Ask For My Wisdom More Often - There Are So Many Things I Could Tell Them; Things I Wish They Would Change. But They Don't Want Change. Life Here Is So Orderly, So Predictable - So Painless. It's What They've Chosen.