It Gets Tiresome Being Spoken To As

The Second Was Some Rather Bad Poetry, But It Was Short, And I Forced My Way Through By Gritting My Teeth And Occasionally Closing One Eye So As Not To Damage The Entirety Of My Brain.

In My Opinion There Are Two Basic Questions That Any Writer Tries To Answer. "what Is?" Is The Question Non-fiction Asks. "what If?" Is The Question Fiction Asks. That's The Question I'm More Interested In.

By Your Logic I Should Also Be In Charge Of Solinade Dances, Needlework, And Horse Thieving.

Re'lar Kvothe," He Said Seriously. "i Am Trying To Wake Your Sleeping Mind To The Subtle Language The World Is Whispering. I Am Trying To Seduce You Into Understanding. I Am Trying To Teach You." He Leaned Forward Until His Face Was Almost Touching Mine. "quit Grabbing At My Tits.

You,” I Said, “are Sweet Music In A Distant Room.