drama

It is a Siren's burden," she whispered, "So much strength, so much pain. You will feel the weight of humanity on your shoulders, though you are only partly human yourself. Soon you will not have any traces of that left.

But truly it was not the money that mattered. It was the distant glitter of everything that was possible in the world, the things she had always wanted for herself and could not name and called happiness because there was no other word.

Everyone has their secrets, and there are shadows following us all.

Drama does not just walk into our lives. Either we create it, invite it, or associate with it.

Uncouth thoughts can come take possession of the sweetest mind. That happens to you, you got to keep yourself alone a long time to heal of it. Mostly so you don__ pass it on. Thoughts, you see, or things, or folks that touch, go right on rubbing on each other, long after the actual touching is done and gone. That__ the Law Of Contagion._-- Banjo Bartell

When my son speaks of playing sports, I've always told him: playing on the team is great, but aspire to be the guy who owns the team. I've always told my son: most of the guys on the team will end up bankrupt with bum knees, but not the guy who owns that franchise.

She had her sonar continually set for excuses to entertain, to bring together influential and powerful people in a mix that hummed, sizzled, throbbed, and sometimes burst into flames. But I was delighted to be her excuse tonight.

Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain.

One of the earliest and most vivid memories of Robin__ childhood was of the day that the family dog had been put down. She herself had been too young to understand what her father was saying; she took the continuing existence of Bruno, her oldest brother__ beloved Labrador, for granted. Confused by her parents_ solemnity, she had turned to Stephen for a clue as to how to react, and all security had crumbled, for she had seen, for the first time in her short life, happiness and comfort drain out of his small and merry face, and his lips whiten as his mouth fell open. She had heard oblivion howling in the silence that preceded his awful scream of anguish, and then she had cried, inconsolably, not for Bruno, but for the terrifying grief of her brother.

Because you can't be as in love as we were and not have it invade your bone marrow. Our kind of love can go into remission, but it's always waiting to return. Like the world's sweetest cancer.

Drama is real life _ with the dull parts left out._ Alfred Hitchcock

The moment that followed was one that would forever change the course of her life. She reflected on it later, and wondered how such a short matter of seconds could alter so permanently every part of her existence. Like an unstoppable line of dominoes, the moment was the flick that set everything into motion.

The Writers curseWe have to writeWe have no choiceWe have stories to TELL

I am who I am and always shall be.

those who truly know, knows those who don't, will learn if they ask

Well, hope for your thrilling career - but remember that if there is to be drama in your life somebody must pay the piper in the coin of suffering. If not you - then someone else.

Once upon a time there was a child who had a golden brain. His parents only discovered this by chance when he injured his head and gold instead of blood flowed out. They then began to look after him carefully and would not let him play with other children for fear of being robbed. When the boy was grown up and wanted to go out into the world, his mother said: __e have done so much for you,we ought to be able to share your wealth._ Then her son took a large piece of gold out of his brain and gave it to his mother. He lived in great style with a friend who, however, robbed him one night and ran away. After that the man resolved to guard his secret and to go out to work, because his reserves were visibly dwindling. One day he fell in love with a beautiful girl who loved him too, but no more than the beautiful clothes he gave her so lavishly. He married her and was very happy, but after two years she died and he spent the rest of his wealth on her funeral, which had to be splendid. Once, as he was creeping through the streets,weak,poor, and unhappy, he saw a beautiful little pair of boots that would have been perfect for his wife. He forgot that she was dead- perhaps because his emptied brain no longer worked- and entered the shop to buy the boots. But in that very moment he fell, and the shopkeeper saw a dead man lying on the ground.This story sounds as though it were invented, but it is true from beginning to end. There are people who have to pay for the smallest things in life with their very substance and their spinal cord. That is a constantly recurring pain, and then when they are tired of suffering_Does not mother love belong to the __mallest_, but also indispensable, things in life, for which many people paradoxically have to pay by giving up their living selves?

It__ not easy remembering the good times.