The Story Of Your Life Is Not

Tis E'er The Wont Of Simple Folk To Prize The Deed And O'erlook The Motive, And Of Learned Folk To Discount The Deed And Lay Open The Soul Of The Doer.

My Dear Fellow,' Burlingame Said, 'we Sit Here On A Blind Rock Careening Through Space; We Are All Of Us Rushing Headlong To The Grave. Think You The Worms Will Care, When Anon They Make A Meal Of You, Whether You Spent Your Moment Sighing Wigless In Your Chamber, Or Sacked The Golden Towns Of Montezuma? Lookee, The Day's Nigh Spent; 'tis Gone Careening Into Time Forever. Not A Tale's Length Past We Lined Our Bowels With Dinner, And Already They Growl For More. We Are Dying Men, Ebenezer: I'faith, There's Time For Naught But Bold Resolves!

I Admire Writers Who Can Make Complicated Things Simple, But My Own Talent Has Been To Make Simple Things Complicated.

Printed Prose Is Historically A Most Peculiar, Almost An Aberrant Way Of Telling Stories, And By Far The Most Inherently Anesthetic: It Is The Only Medium Of Art I Can Think Of Which Appeals Directly To None Of Our Five Senses. The Oral And Folk Tradition In Narrative Made Use Of Verse Or Live-voice Dynamics, Embellished By Gesture And Expression--a Kind Of Rudimentary Theater--as Do The Best Raconteurs Of All Times. Commonly There Was Musical Accompaniment As Well: A Kind Of One-man Theater-of-mixed-means.

The Story Of Your Life Is Not Your Life; It's Your Story.