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He was pushing fifty, with a face life had chewed on, and long wisps of graying hair parted low on one side and combed over his balding pate.
Patricia Cornwell
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Patricia Cornwell
Age: 68
Born: 1956
Born: June 9
Art Collector
Crime Writer
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Miami
Florida
Patricia Carroll Daniels
Sides
Chewed
Face
Wisps
Faces
Parted
Long
Pushing
Life
Fifty
Graying
Lows
Pate
Hair
Balding
Side
Combed
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Has all the trappings of a mystery novel, doesn't it?
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I've always believed human blood is red because it really needs to draw attention to itself.
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I wouldn't want to assume that all men are like you. If I did, I know I would give them up entirely
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I stop working at about 3 p.m. on Fridays.
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We create our own worlds. We destroy our own worlds. It is that simple.
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rain slowly slides down the glass as if the night is crying.
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Even if you are a best-seller you feel insecure because it is all so unpredictable.
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Leaves covered pavement like soggy cereal.
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Grief was like a seizure that shook me like a storm.
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Being gay is just one aspect of my very complicated life. I do not wear it on my sleeve.
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Do no harm & leave the world a better place than you found it.
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I like to get to bed with a clear head.
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I don't do things that are illegal.
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Survival my only hope. Success my only revenge
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You can't cure a chipped plate. All you can do is live with it or throw it out.
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Night fell clean and cold in Dublin, and wind moaned beyond my room as if a million pipes played the air.
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The dead have never bothered me. It's the living that I fear.
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When I was in second grade, my mother moved from Miami to this evangelical conservative environment in western North Carolina, two miles down the road from Billy Graham and his wife, Ruth.
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