One Of The Earliest Lessons I Learned

A Babe At The Breast Is As Much Pleasure As The Bearing Is Pain.

There Is No Such Thing As A True Tale. Truth Has Many Faces And The Truth Is Like To The Old Road To Avalon; It Depends On Your Own Will, And Your Own Thoughts, Whither The Road Will Take You.

If You Own A Machine, You Are In Turn Owned By It, And Spend Your Time Serving It.

There's No "magic Secret"; Writing Is Like Everything Else; Ten Percent Inspiration Or Talent, And Ninety Percent Hard Work. Persistence; Keeping At It Till You Get There. As Agnes De Mille Said, It Means Working Every Day—bored, Tired, Weary, Or With A Fever Of A Hundred And Two.

Rome Was Mud And Smoky Skies; The Rank Smell Of The Tiber And The Exotically Spiced Cooking Fires Of A Hundred Different Nationalities. Rome Was White Marble And Gilding And Heady Perfumes; The Blare Of Trumpets And The Shrieking Of Market-women And The Eternal, Sub-aural Hum Of More People, Speaking More Languages Than Gaius Had Ever Imagined Existed, Crammed Together On Seven Hills Whose Contours Had Long Ago Disappeared Beneath This Encrustation If Humanity. Rome Was The Pulsing Heart Of The World.