But In My Humble Opinion, A House

What Could Be More Perfect Than Marrying The Person You Love.

We're All Unique, Just Never In The Ways We Imagine.

Cassandra Wondered At The Mind's Cruel Ability To Toss Up Flecks Of The Past. Why, As She Neared Her Life's End, Her Grandmother's Head Should Ring With The Voices Of People Long Since Gone. Was It Always This Way? Did Those With Passage Booked On Death's Silent Ship Always Scan The Dock For Faces Of The Long-departed?

Thinking Of Nothing. Trying To Think Of Nothing. Thinking Of Everything.

All True Readers Have A Book, A Moment When Real Life Is Never Going To Be Able To Compete With Fiction Again.