A Peasant That Reads Is A Prince

I'm Just A Survivor From The Train Wreck Of The Modern World.

The Love Of Writing Comes At A Very Early Age. For Me, For Instance, Comic Books So Affected Me. And A Lot Of People Who Come Up To Me And Start Talking About Writing, When I Start Talking To Them About The "fantastic Four," They Look At Me Aghast. They Say, "'the Fantastic Four?' That's Not Literature." I Say, "yeah, But It Was When I Was 11 Years Old." This Was Literature.

A Lot Of People... Kind Of Make Heroes That Are Separate From Us, People Who Are, You Know, Like... John Wayne And Errol Flynn And, You Know, Denzel Washington... People Who Are Different, Who Are Larger Than Life.

I Never Really Thought I'd Be Successful. I Never Though I'd Get Books Published, But This Was Something Completely Beyond Me. The Fact That It Happened Is Wonderful, But It Is Not Something That I Was Aiming For.

That’s How Ptolemy Imagined The Disposition Of His Memories, His Thoughts: They Were Still His, Still In The Range Of His Thinking, But They Were, Many And Most Of Them, Locked On The Other Side A Closed Door That He’s Lost The Key For. So His Memory Became Like Secrets Held Away From His Own Mind. But These Secrets Were Noisy Things; They Babbled And Muttered Behind The Door, And So If He Listened Closely He Might Catch A Snatch Of Something He Once Knew Well.