Failure Concentrates The Mind Wonderfully. If You

You Nearly Killed Eight People!" I Managed To Gasp Out Loud. "my Count Was Closer To Twelve," Returned Havisham As She Opened The Door. "and Anyhow, You Can't Nearly Kill Someone. Either They Are Dead Or They Are Not.

If The Real World Were A Book, It Would Never Find A Publisher.

How Many People Want To Read About Three Disreputable Pigs And A Dopey Wolf With A Disposition Towards House Demolition?

We Were Developing A Machine That Used Egg White, Heat And Sugar To Synthesize Methanol When A Power Surge Caused An Implosion. Owens Was Meringued. By The Time We Chipped Him Out The Poor Chap Had Expired.

Without Unscrambled Eggs, There Was No Time Travel, No More Depredation Of The Now, And We Could Look To A Brighter Future Of Long-term Thought--and More Reading.