I Believe That You Live On Inside

Critics Have A Problem With Sentimentality. Readers Do Not. I Write For Readers.

It's The Thinking That Gets You Killed.

Sometimes, Love Brings You Together Even As Life Keeps You Apart.

All Parents Damage Their Children. It Cannot Be Helped. Youth, Like Pristine Glass, Absorbs The Prints Of Its Handlers. Some Parents Smudge, Others Crack, A Few Shatter Childhoods Completely Into Jagged Little Pieces, Beyond Repair.

What Do People Fear Most About Death? I Asked The Reb. "fear?" He Thought For A Moment. 'well, For One Thing, What Happens Next? Where Do We Go? Is It What We Imagined?" That's Big. "yes. But There's Something Else." What Else? He Leaned Forward. "being Forgotten," He Whispered.