[Rejection] made me quit writing once. For six months. I started up again when my then seven-year-old son asked me to start writing again because I was too grumpy when I wasn't writing.

I love visiting new places but am not overly fond of the travel to get to them.

Why couldn't I be more like other girls my age? Take Mrs. Brown's niece. She spent every waking hour sizing up this beau or that, stitching tea towels and petticoats and putting aside a little each month for a set of Spode Buttercup dishes.

Sir if I was your daughter I would wait until this train started again and throw myself in front of it!

There is nothing like the occasional outburst of profanity to calm jangled nerves.

I will have to rely on that painful teacher, experience.

There should be fireworks at last, when a dream dies.