From This Point On, She Whispered, We

I Don't See Novels Ending With Any Real Sense Of Closure.

We Own The Country We Grow Up In, Or We Are Aliens And Invaders.

Sleep Is A Prison For A Boy Who Has Friends To Meet.

It's A Responsibility Of The Writer To Get The Reader Out Of The Story Somehow.

She Had Grown Older. And He Loved Her More Now Than He Had Loved Her When He Understood Her Better, When She Was The Product Of Her Parents. What She Was Now Was What She Herself Had Decided To Become.