Verbs. All Of Them Tiring.

Well, I'm A Slow Writer. For Me, A Good Day Is A Page, Maybe A Page And A Half. I'd Love To Be More Efficient, But I Am Not.

There Was A Redemption Of Some Kind, He Believed, In Such Complete Fulfillment Of A Desire So Long Deferred.

What I Wanted To Do Was Slap Him Down A Bit With Wit And Words. Grammar And Vocabulary As A Weapon. But What Kind Of World Would It Be If We All Took Every Opportunity Presented To Us To Assault The Weak?

When All Else Is Lost And Gone Forever, There Is Yearning. Only Desire Trumps Time.

I Do The Same Things I Did When I Was 12 Years Old: I Ride Bikes, I Read Books, I Walk In The Woods. And I Listen To Music.