She Was The Breeze On A Summer's

To Abandon A Child, She Had Once Said To Someone, When She Thought Cassandra Couldn't Hear, Was An Act So Cold, So Careless, It Refused Forgiveness.

I Simply Love Writing Good Stories, That's My Passion.

Oh, Grey, No One Really Likes Keeping Secrets. The Only Thing That Makes A Secret Fun Is Knowing That You Weren't Supposed To Tell It.

Wars Make History Seem Deceptively Simple. They Provide Clear Turning Points, Easy Distinctions.: Before And After, Winner And Loser, Right And Wrong. True History, The Past, Is Not Like That. It Isn't Flat Or Linear. It Has No Outline. It Is Slippery, Like Liquid; Infinite And Unknowable, Like Space. And It Is Changeable: Just When You Think You See A Pattern, Perspective Shifts, An Alternate Version Is Proffered, A Long-forgotten Memory Resurfaces.

It Didn't Occur To Him That She Might Have Chosen To Remain This Way. That Where He Saw Reserve And Loneliness, Cassandra Saw Self-preservation And The Knowledge That It Was Safer When One Had Less To Lose.