The Short Story Packs A Self In

Overnight Business Could Go Down Enough To Hurt; Yet As A Rule It Slowly Recovered-sometimes It Seemed To Take Forever-went Up, Not High Enough To Be Really Up, Only Not Down.

There Are No Wrong Books. What's Wrong Is The Fear Of Them.

I Sometimes Confuse Myself With The Little I Know.

Children Were Strangers You Loved Because You Could Love. If They Gave Back Love When They Were Grown You Were Ahead Of The Game.

The Past Exudes Legend: One Can't Make Pure Clay Of Time's Mud. There Is No Life That Can Be Recaptured Wholly; As It Was.which Is To Say That All Biography Is Ultimately Fiction.