A Broken Clock Is Right Two Times

If A Pig Goes Upon The Threshing-floor, Or A Field, Or A Garden, And The Owner Of The Meadow, Or The Field, Or The Garden Smites It So That It Die, He Shall Give It Back To Its Owner; But If He Does Not Give It Back, He Becomes A Thief.

Valentine Had Long Ago Observed That In A Society That Expected Chastity And Fidelity, Like Lusitania, The Adolescents Who Controlled And Channeled Their Youthful Passions Were The Ones Who Grew Up To Be Both Strong And Civilized. Adolescents In Such A Community Who Were Either Too Weak To Control Themselves Or Too Contemptuous Of Society's Norms To Try Usually Ended Up Being Either Sheep Or Wolves- Either Mindless Members Of The Herd Or Predators Who Took What They Could And Gave Nothing.

This Emotion I'm Feeling Now, This Is Love, Right?

You Grow A Whole Lot More As A Writer By Getting Old Stories Out Of The House And Letting New Ones Come In And Live With You Until They Grow Up And Are Ready To Go. Don't Let The Old Ones Stay There And Grow Fat And Cranky And Eat All The Food Out Of The Refrigerator. You Have Dozens Of Generations Of Stories Inside You, But The Only Way To Make Room For The New Ones Is To Write The Old Ones And Mail Them Off.

I Know, You've Been Here A Year, You Think These People Are Normal. Well, They're Not. We're Not. I Look In The Library, I Call Up Books On My Desk. Old Ones, Because They Won't Let Us Have Anything New, But I've Got A Pretty Good Idea What Children Are, And We're Not Children. Children Can Lose Sometimes, And Nobody Cares. Children Aren't In Armies, They Aren't Commanders, They Don't Rule Over Forty Other Kids, It's More Than Anybody Can Take And Not Get Crazy.