That's funny, you're funny. I like you, I'm quite taken by you.

I became simply a pair of eyes, staring through my mask at Char. I needed no ears because I was too far off to hear his voice, no words because I was too distant for speech, and no thoughts - those I saved for later. He bent his head. I loved the hairs on the nape of his neck. He moved his lips. I admired their changing shape. He clasped his hand. I blessed his fingers. Once, the power of my gaze drew his eyes.

If beginnings terrify you, or if you just plain don't like writing them, or if they bore you, skip 'em.

I don't wait for inspiration. Writing is my job.

I love having written. Sometimes I love writing. I love to revise. Revising is my favorite part of writing.

He -it- was a specter! I stepped back, stunned.

He loved me. He'd loved me as long as he he'd known me! I hadn't loved him as long perhaps, but now I loved him equally well, or better. I loved his laugh, his handwriting, his steady gaze, his honorableness, his freckles, his appreciation of my jokes, his hands, his determination that I should know the worst of him. And, most of all, shameful though it might be, I loved his love for me.