I Loved Him, Officer. More Than Any

Mr. Pewter Led Them Through To A Library, Filled With Thousands Of Antiquarian Books. 'impressive, Eh?' 'very,' Said Jack. 'how Did You Amass All These?' 'well,' Said Pewter, 'you Know The Person Who Always Borrows Books And Never Gives Them Back?' 'yes...?' 'i'm That Person.

Death And The End Of One's Life Are Two Very Different Things Indeed.

Everything Comes To An End. A Good Bottle Of Wine, A Summer’s Day, A Long-running Sitcom, One’s Life, And Eventually Our Species. The Question For Many Of Us Is Not That Everything Will Come To An End But When. And Can We Do Anything Vaguely Useful Until It Does?

Writing Is Not Something You Can Do Or You Can't. It's Not Even Something That 'other People Do' Or 'for Smart People Only' Or Even 'for People Who Finished School And Went To University'. Nonsense. Anyone Can Do It. But No-one Can Do It Straight Off The Bat. Like Plastering, Brain Surgery Or Assembling Truck Engines, You Have To Do A Bit Of Training - Get Your Hands Dirty - And Make Some Mistakes.

Every Book Should Have A Romance.