I Lived Rough, By My Wits, Was

An Inner Darkness Is Darker Than An Outer Darkness.

I Was Born Left-handed, But I Was Made To Use My Other Hand. When I Was Writing 'famished Road,' Which Was Very Long, I Got Repetitive Stress Syndrome. My Right Wrist Collapsed, So I Started Using My Left Hand. The Prose I Wrote With My Left Hand Came Out Denser, So Later On I Had To Change It.

We Plan Our Lives According To A Dream That Came To Us In Our Childhood, And We Find That Life Alters Our Plans. And Yet, At The End, From A Rare Height, We Also See That Our Dream Was Our Fate. It's Just That Providence Had Other Ideas As To How We Would Get There. Destiny Plans A Different Route, Or Turns The Dream Around, As If It Were A Riddle, And Fulfills The Dream In Ways We Couldn't Have Expected.

If You Are Working In An Office, Where Do You Find The Time To Write A Novel? But You Can Finish A Short Story In Five Pages. Furthermore, A Short Story Is A Perfect Place To Learn The Craft

There Is A Kind Of Expressed Love Which Is Easy To Subvert. When A Figure Is Loved For Their Deeds, Their Conquests, Their Heroism, Their Goodness, Their Love Of The People, These Are Easy Enough To Destroy... But There Is A Kind Of Love Which Is Felt For Apparently No Reason... A Love, Inspired, It Seems, By The Gods, Which It Is Impossible To Fight, Distort, Destroy, Or Weaken. In Fact, The Attempts To Destroy Such Loves Only Strengthen Them. And To Do Nothing Allows Them To Continue To Grow At Their Natural Pace, Inexoribly, Till This Love Becomes A Wide And Silent Adoration.