Saying my story makes me want to change it, make it sound pretty the way I do with the stories I tell the workers. I'd like it to have a beginning as grand as a ball and an ending in a whisper, like a mother tucking in a child for sleep.

What? Don't British women know how to use their knees?

You've been quiet lately...but it's not so much the quiet as something inside the quiet.

As a general rule, writing is very inconvenient.

He looked at her, and the clarity of his dark eyes struck her heart with a sensation of a wound touched.

You're better than seven years of food. You're better than windows. You're even better than the sky.

How could you miss it? Just the sound of her voice makes my chest feel tight, my face gets hot and my mouth goes dry whenever she's near. It's getting so bad, all I have to do is see her and I'm already thinking, 'What does she want? What can I do for her?' She's got some power over me, there's no question, and what else could it be? ~Razo