I Believe The Road To Hell Is

It's The Pool Where We All Go Down To Drink, To Swim, To Catch A Little Fish From The Edge Of The Shore; It's Also The Pool Where Some Hardy Souls Go Out In Their Flimsy Wooden Boats After The Big Ones. It Is The Pool Of Life, The Cup Of Imagination, And She Has An Idea That Different People See Different Versions Of It, But With Two Things Ever In Common: It's Always About A Mile Deep In The Fairy Forest, And It's Always Sad. Because Imagination Isn't The Only Thing This Place Is About.

My Wife Says, And I Agree With Her, That What Would Be Really Great For Maine Would Be To Legalize Dope Completely And Set Up Dope Stores The Way That There Are State-run Liquor Stores. You Could Get Your Acapulco Gold Or Your Whatever It Happened To Be - Your Augusta Gold Or Your Bangor Gold. And People Would Come From All The Other States To Buy It, And There Could Be A State Tax On It. Then Everybody In Maine Could Have A Cadillac.

Don't Give Me What I Ask For, Give Me What I Need.

When You're Six, Most Of Your Bingo Balls Are Still Floating Around In The Draw-tank.

When You Start, It's Very Cold, An Impossible Task. But Then Maybe The Characters Start To Take On A Little Bit Of Life, Or The Story Takes A Turn That You Don't Expect ... With Me That Happens A Lot Because I Don't Outline, I Just Have A Vague Notion. So It's Always Felt Like Less Of A Made Thing And More Of A Found Thing. That's Exciting. That's A Thrill.