I Am Responsible For Myself. I Am

I Know That Pain Is The Most Important Thing In The Universes. Greater Than Survival, Greater Than Love, Greater Even Than The Beauty It Brings About. For Without Pain, There Can Be No Pleasure. Without Sadness, There Can Be No Happiness. Without Misery There Can Be No Beauty. And Without These, Life Is Endless, Hopeless, Doomed And Damned. Adult. You Have Become Adult.

Writing Is The Hardest Work In The World. I Have Been A Bricklayer And A Truck Driver, And I Tell You – As If You Haven't Been Told A Million Times Already – That Writing Is Harder. Lonelier. And Nobler And More Enriching.

Because The Chief Commodity A Writer Has To Sell Is His Courage. And If He Has None, He Is More Than A Coward. He Is A Sellout And A Fink And A Heretic, Because Writing Is A Holy Chore.

Uh, Excuse Me, Sir, I, Uh, Don't Known How To Uh, To Uh, Tell You This, But You Were Three Minutes Late. The Schedule Is A Little, Uh, Bit Off." He Grinned Sheepishly. "that's Ridiculous!" Murmured The Ticktockman Behind His Mask. "check Your Watch." And Then He Went Into His Office, Going Mrmee, Mrmee, Mrmee, Mrmee.

To Say More, Is To Say Less.