. . . as long as there are movement and harmony, there are words.

I can see that one can never pay back Gilsa for the fear that she will give again.

I keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.

Look no farther than your hand, Make a choice and take a stand.

I’ve always believed that as an author, I do 50% of the work of storytelling, and the reader does the other 50%. There’s no way I can control the story you tell yourself from my book. Your own experiences, preferences, prejudices, mood at the moment, current events in your life, needs and wants influence how you read my every word.

. . . as long as there are movement and harmony, there are words.

He did a very good impression of a stone column.