![]() When my father said he had to push on the pedals, my brother left it lying there in the street, and he never got on a bicycle again. But when my father let go and the bicycle stopped, Bertrand asked why. My father ran along behind him, holding on, and my brother balanced perfectly. Miss Edi: When he was six, my father bought him a bicycle and took him out to teach him to ride it. Miss Edi: When he was three and saw all his gifts under the Christmas tree, he said, 'Who's going to open them for me?' “Miss Edi: My brother Bertrand is the laziest person in the world. Honey, if any woman thought a gorgeous hunk was going to rescue her, romance novels wouldn’t be forty percent of the publishing industry.” It just seems to be dumb ol' women who might think some gorgeous, thoughtful, giving hunk is going to rescue them. ![]() ![]() Nor do I remember anyone worrying about murder mysteries or science fiction. Is anyone worried that the MEN who read spy thrillers are going to go after their neighbors with an automatic weapon? No, I don't remember anyone thinking that. According to this theory, women are so stupid that they can't tell a story from reality. Kissing.īut no, the world is upside down as far as I can see, and romances and their writers are ridiculed, hisses and generally spat upon.įor what reason? One of my favorites is that women who read them might get mixed up about reality and imagine a man is going to rescue them from Life. ![]() “You'd think the very thought of a romance writer would bring a smile to people's lips. ![]()
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