On The Contrary, There Is Something Pleasing

I Wrote One Terrible Manuscript After Another For A Decade And I Guess They Gradually Got A Little Less Terrible. But There Were Many, Many Unpublished Short Stories, Abandoned Screenplays And Novels... A Library Of Congress Worth Of Awful Literature.

Most Men Have No Purpose But To Exist, Abraham; To Pass Quietly Through History As Minor Characters Upon A Stage They Cannot Even See

I Fear That A Life Of Death Has Made Me Numb To Both.

Of All The Weapons She Had Commanded, Elizabeth Knew The Least Of Love; And Of All The Weapons In The World, Love Was The Most Dangerous.

I Nearly Broke Out Laughing When The Wrteched Soothsayer Warned Caesar: "beware The Ides Of April." I Thought It A Miracle (and A Relief) That No One In The Udience Had Snickered Or Yelled Out A Correction. How Could Such An Error Be Made By An Actor? Had My Ears Deceived Me?