This Story Is Not And Never Was

It Was An Eight-harlot Inn, If That's How You Measure An Inn. (i Understand That Now They Measure Inns In Stars. We Are In A Four-star Inn Right Now. I Don't Know What The Conversion From Harlots To Stars Is.)

It Was Watching Madeline Alby Eat Cheese With Every Ounce Of Her Being, Like It Was The First And Best Time, That Made Him Realize That He Had Never Really Tasted Cheese, Or Crackers, Or Life. And He Didn't Want His Daughter To Live That Way. He'd Moved Her Into Her Own Room The Night Before...he Hadn't Slept Well, And Had Gotten Up Five Times During The Night To Check On Her, Only To Find Her Sleeping Peacefully, But He Could Lose A Little Sleep If Sophie Could Go Through Life Without His Fears And Limitations. He Wanted Her To Experience All The Glorious Cheese Of Life.

Next Out Of The Hall Came The Sisters And Their Husbands. Before I Could Say Anything, The Captain Had Clamped His Hand Over My Mouth And Was Lifting Me Off My Feet As I Kicked. Cornwall Made As To Draw His Dagger, But Regan Pulled Him Away. "you've Just Won A Kingdom, My Duke, Killing Vermin Is A Servant's Task. Leave The Bitter Fool Stew In His Own Bile." She Wanted Me. It Was Clear.

Life Is Messy. Would That Every Puzzle Piece Fell Into Place, Every Word Was Kind, Every Accident Happy, But Such Is Not The Case. Life Is Messy

No Theory Ever Benefited By The Application Of Data, Amy. Data Kills Theories. A Theory Has No Better Time Than When It's Lying There Naked, Pure, Unsullied By Facts. Let's Just Keep It That Way For A While." "so You Don't Really Have A Theory?" "clueless." "you Lying Bag Of Fish Heads." "i Can Fire You, You Know. Even If Clay Was The One That Hired You, I'm Not Totally Superfluous To This Operation Yet. I'm Kind Of In Charge. I Can Fire You. Then How Will You Live?" "i'm Not Getting Paid." "see, Right There. Perfectly Good Concept Ruined By The Application Of Fact.