. . . Companions Were To Be

For It Is Said, You Know, That A Letter Will Always Seek A Reader; That Sooner Or Later, Like It Or Not, Words Have A Way Of Finding The Light, Of Making Their Secrets Known.

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.

Better To Lose Oneself In Action Than To Wither In Despair.

Reluctance To Begin Is Quick To Befriend Procrastination. . . .

There's A Market For Mysteries For Adults. That Feeling Of Opening A Book And Delving Inside And Not Coming Out Until You've Closed The Book.