Can You Trust Me, He Said. Not

Laughter Went On And On, Like Sunlight And Stone, Even If The Human Beings Who Laughed Did Not.

He Grunted; She Recognized It As Relief That She Wasn't Going To Nag Him Further About Tor The Just, Who Probably Wasn't That Boring If He Could Hold Off The Notherners For Nine Days And Melt A Hole In The Hills.

For Anyone Who Is: Just Keep Writing. Keep Reading. If You Are Meant To Be A Writer, A Storyteller, It'll Work Itself Out. You Just Keep Feeding It Your Energy, And Giving It That Crucial Chance To Work Itself Out. By Reading And Writing.

Never Assume. Never Make Plans. Keep Doing The Press-ups And Deep Knee Bends: You'll Need All Your Strength And Flexibility When Your Life Suddenly Implodes. Maybe It Won't — Some People Do Lead Enchanted Lives — But Odds Are That It Will. Some Time.

What Was New Was The Fact That, Despite My Heart Doing Its Fight-or-flight, Help-we're-prey-and-hey-stupid-that's-a-vampire Number, I Was Glad To See Him. Ridiculous But True. Scary But True.