I Do Much Of My Creative Thinking

Hey, Mr. Cunningham. How's Your Entailment Gettin' Along?

A Man Can Condemn His Enemies, But It's Wiser To Know Them.

Any Writer Worth His Salt Writes To Please Himself...it's A Self-exploratory Operation That Is Endless. An Exorcism Of Not Necessarily His Demon, But Of His Divine Discontent.

Dill Was Off Again. Beautiful Things Floated Around In His Dreamy Head. He Could Read Two Books To My One, But He Preferred The Magic Of His Own Inventions. He Could Add And Subtract Faster Than Lightning, But He Preferred His Own Twilight World, A World Where Babies Slept, Waiting To Be Gathered Like Morning Lilies.

So It Took An Eight-year-old Child To Bring 'em To Their Senses.... That Proves Something - That A Gang Of Wild Animals Can Be Stopped, Simply Because They're Still Human. Hmp, Maybe We Need A Police Force Of Children.