You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. Every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate
art.

it takes a village to build success in publishing a book – it takes friends that are willing to help – it takes hours upon hours of no’s to get to a yes, it takes many twists and turns with seemingly no end to the detours, it takes courage to face the unknowns – it takes and it takes and it takes – But then, like a flower opening its blossom – it gives………

Fantasy like thought that no man could rain
Just let her reign
Run wild with her unafraid
Of any rain storms
They only wash the mud away and make way
For double rainbows and sunny days

Without habit, the beauty of the world would overwhelm us. We’d pass out every time we saw- actually saw- a flower. Imagine if we only got to see a cumulonimbus cloud or Cassiopeia or a snowfall once a century: there’d be pandemonium in the streets. People would lie by the thousands in the fields on their backs.

Found in trees. Sometimes also in old silent movie theaters, seaside zoos, magic shops, hat shops, time-travel shops, topiary gardents, cowboy boots, castle turrets, comet museums, dog pounds, mermaid ponds, dragon lairs, library stacks (the ones in the back), piles of leaves, piles of pancakes, the belly of a fiddle, the bell of a flower, or in the company of wild herds of typewriters.
But mostly in trees.

1 2 3 4