A Writer Of Fiction Lives In Fear.

You Ignorant Little Slug!" The Trunchbull Bellowed. "you Witless Weed! You Empty-headed Hamster! You Stupid Glob Of Glue!

I Shall Never Have A Bath Again," I Said. "just Dont Have One Too Often," My Grandmother Said. "once A Month Is Quite Enough For A Sensible Child." It Was At Times Like These That I Loved My Grandmother More Than Ever.

If My Books Can Help Children Become Readers Then I Feel I Have Accomplished Something Important.

The Writer Walks Out Of His Workroom In A Daze. He Wants A Drink. He Needs It.

If You Are Good Life Is Good.