I haven't changed. Something's happened to me, that's all.

When I started as a writer, I knew nothing about publishing-nothing about anything!

I haven't changed. Something's happened to me, that's all.

A rose by any other name Would get the blame For being what it is-- The colour of a kiss, The shadow of a flame. A rose may earn another name, So call it love; So call it love I will, And love is like the sea, Which changes constantly, And yet is still The same.

She could not mourn. She could no longer weep grasping the essence of annihilation, she wished only to cease, to be no more, as if sunk in some profound sleep devoid of wakening.

The humble were the elect of God. Did not the priests teach so, in their gemmed, kingly robes, from their towering pulpits?

It gets cold in the desert at night, particularly up in the mountains; the stars hammer on the rock and strike frost.