Not Every Boy Thrown To The Wolves

A Curious Thing About Written Literature: It Is About Four Thousand Years Old, But We Have No Way Of Knowing Whether Four Thousand Years Constitutes Senility Or The Maiden Blush Of Youth.

More History Is Made By Secret Handshakes Than By Battles, Bills And Proclamations.

He Wishes He Had Never Entered The Funhouse. But He Has. Then He Wishes He Were Dead. But He's Not. Therefore He Will Construct Funhouses For Others And Be Their Secret Operator -- Though He Would Rather Be Among The Lovers For Whom Funhouses Are Designed.

Tis E'er The Lot Of The Innocent In The World, To Fly To The Wolf For Succor From The Lion.

I Don't See How Anybody Starts A Novel Without Knowing How It's Going To End. I Usually Make Detailed Outlines: How Many Chapters It Will Be And So Forth.