Elizabeth Anne Taylor April 25, 1974 - April 25, 2004 Our Sweetheart, Only resting

Yeah, well, it's been a super fun week. And by 'super fun' I mean 'horrible and endless'.

Never let your fiend off his leash unless there's lots of room to run (and no people around).

Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for the idignity you suffered and offer you the head of our enemy as—" "Put that thing down," I said impatiently. "I can't talk to you when you're shaking his head like a damned maraca.

It never failed—I'd buy a new journal, write like a madwoman for ten pages, then lose total interest in the process. Three months later, I'd start the whole process all over again. I think I just liked buying new notebooks.

Never, EVER give up. Not ever. Not EVER. Ever EVER!

My my Laura Goodman. I must say that is a charming name for a charming young lady." "Eric's old." I broke in. "Really really old." "Er— really?" Laura asked. "Gosh you don't look even out of your thirties." "Tons of face-lifts. He's a surgical addict. I'm trying to get him help." I added defensively when they both gave me strange looks.