Writing is a piece of cake. Editing is a slab of liver.
“He towered over her, dwarfing her with his height and the bulk of his body which was clothed in the way of a mortal gentleman. He felt and heard that voice tremble inside her, replaced the rational...”
“Fine!' she snapped, the desperation to have him growing exponentially now. 'I missed you. Only you. No man could ever make me feel like you do. I'm ruined for all others. I renamed all my vibrators...”
“She's my sun and I'm her moon connected by an invisible thread, bound but free.”
“The soul, they say, is divine and the flesh is iniquity. But I am a musician and I ask this - without the wood and the strings of the violin, where would the sonata find form?”
“ I suppose that it is not so easy to go home and it takes a bit of time to make a son out of a stranger.”
“Everyone wanted me to be the bad boy, the label wanted it, the publicists wanted it, but I was just trying to be myself.”