...before you, life was desolate - the past hardly worth remembering - and now, each moment a keepsake I can't throw away ...

“...how are you sacred to me? your lines are golden threads - your patter, my pa…”

“...you go back to liberate the captives and sadly realize, some want to remain …”

“...my novels are like life - I never know where they're going until I get to th…”

“you cross the field in the snow leaving tracks in perfect whiteness ...disturbi…”