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The Hard Part About Writing A Novel Is Finishing It.

As Long As You Can Start, You Are All Right. The Juice Will Come.

For Luck You Carried A Horse Chestnut And A Rabbit?s Foot In Your Right Pocket. The Fur Had Been Worn Off The Rabbit?s Foot Long Ago And The Bones And The Sinews Were Polished By The Wear. The Claws Scratched In The Lining Of Your Pocket And You Knew Your Luck Was Still There.

Later He Had Seen The Things That He Could Never Think Of And Later Still He Had Seen Much Worse.

No, That Is The Great Fallacy: The Wisdom Of Old Men. They Do Not Grow Wise. They Grow Careful.