A Lot Of My Characters In All

By Ignoring A Lot Of American Culture You Can Write More Interesting Stories. Unfortunately, If You Were Writing About America As It Is, You'd Be Writing About A Lot Of People Sitting In Front Of Television Sets.

Whatever You're Working On, Take Small Bites. The Task Will Not Be Overwhelming If You Can Reduce It To Its Smallest Component.

I Told Him The Truth, That I Loved Him And Didn't Regret Anything About Our Lives Together. But Do We Ever 'tell The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth, So Help Me God' As My Father Used To Say, To Those We Love? Or Even To Ourselves? Don't Even The Best And Most Fortunate Of Lives Hint At Other Possibilities, At A Different Kind Of Sweetness And, Yes, Bitterness Too? Isn't This Why We Can't Help Feeling Cheated, Even When We Know We Haven't Been?

To His Surprise, She Leaned Over And Kissed Him On The Forehead, A Kiss So Full Of Affection That It Dispelled The Awkwardness, Even As It Caused Miles' Heart To Plummet, Because All Kisses Are Calibrated, And This One Revealed The Great Chasm Between Affection And Love.

As I Drift Back Into Sleep, I Can't Help Thinking That It's A Wonderful Thing To Be Right About The World. To Weigh The Evidence, Always Incomplete, And Correctly Intuit The Whole, To See The World In A Grain Of Sand, To Recognize Its Beauty, Its Simplicity, Its Truth. It's As Close As We Get To God In This Life, And Reside In The Glow Of Such Brief Flashes Of Understanding, Fully Awake, Sometimes For Two Or Three Seconds, At Peace With Our Existence. And Then Back To Sleep We Go.