Don't worry about how pretty (the story) sounds, how lilting it is, and the imagery, and the metaphor, all that. Most readers don't care. It's the people in your book that matter.
So you’ve made a friend. How sad for them.
Are you staring at me because you've seen my doppelganger roaming the halls, playing kind of the cafeteria? Or because you need to borrow a pencil and you're too shy to ask?
It's over. Absolutely, completely, eternally over
But why didn't you just ask me?" I set down my fork and glare at her. "Because you were sleeping," She says, taking a sip if Chardonnay. "I was taking a nap, Mom. It wasn't intended to be some kind of Disney fairy-tale hundred-year snooze.
What a tangle love is.
You and I are meant to be. It's the only thing I'm absolutely sure of. And while I have no idea what to expect, I promise I'll do whatever it takes to find my way back.
There's no fast track, no easy track, especially from where I came from. You try to take the most of it and learn from it and hope others learn from it. That's what it is about.
Don't bother to examine a folly-ask yourself only what it accomplishes.
When children's children shall talk of War as a madness that may not be; When we thank our God for our grief today, and blazon from sea to sea In the name of the Dead the banner of Peace. . . that will be Victory.
There are more things to alarm us than to harm us, and we suffer more often in apprehension than reality.