There Are But Two Types Of Men

He Begged To Know To Which Of His Fair Cousins The Excellency Of Its Cookery Was Owing. Briefly Forgetting Her Manners, Mary Grabbed Her Fork And Leapt From Her Chair Onto The Table. Lydia, Who Was Seated Nearest Her, Grabbed Her Ankle Before She Could Dive At Mr. Collins And, Presumably, Stab Him About The Head And Neck For Such An Insult.

My Men Have Suffered Greatly (from Boredom), Much Blood Has Been Shed (by Mosquitoes), And I Have Swung My Ax Mightily (chopping Firewood). Surely We Have Earned Our Place In The Annals Of History—for Never Has There Been So Little War In A War.

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?

But I Am Happy. And Happiness, I Have Decided, Is A Noble Ambition.

I Think Any Period In History Can Be Adapted Into Interesting Fiction, As Long As You Approach The Actual History With Respect.