ALL WHO HAVE THEIR REWARD ON EARTH, THE FRUITS OF PAINFUL SUPERSTITION AND BLIND ZEAL, NOUGHT SEEKING BUT THE PRAISE OF MEN, HERE FIND FIT RETRIBUTION, EMPTY AS THEIR DEED

Someday she planned to paint he ceiling: Blue, with gold stars on it, whole constellations, and a section of the Milky Way.

Why does someone, in the midst of your worst suffering, decide the time has come to drive home, disguised in the form of character analysis, all the contempt they have been harbouring for you for all these years?

Comedy is exaggerated realism. It can be stretched to the almost ludicrous, but it must always be believable.

Written By Paul Lynde

About us

Featured posts

Featured Topics

Quick Links