I Write Seven Days A Week, Starting

It's Not About What You Tell The Reader, It's About What You Conceal.

He Thought About Science, About Faith, About Man. He Thought About How Every Culture, In Every Country, In Every Time, Had Always Shared One Thing. We All Had The Creator. We Used Different Names, Different Faces, And Different Prayers, But God Was The Universal Constant For Man. God Was The Symbol We All Shared...the Symbol Of All The Mysteries Of Life That We Could Not Understand. The Ancients Had Praised God As A Symbol Of Our Limitless Human Potential, But That Ancient Symbol Had Been Lost Over Time. Until Now.

The Woman Dashed Up The Staircase Toward The Library's Main Doors. Arriving At The Top Of The Stairs, She Grabbed The Handle And Tried Desperately To Open Each Of The Three Giant Doors. The Library's Closed, Lady. But The Woman Didn't Seem To Care. She Seized One Of The Heavy Ring-shaped Handles, Heaved It Backward, And Let It Fall With A Loud Crash Against The Door. Then She Did It Again. And Again. And Again. Wow, The Homeless Man Thought, She Must Really Need A Book.

Fear Cripples Faster Than Any Implement Of War.

If I'm Not At My Desk By 4 Am, I Feel Like I'm Missing My Most Productive Hours. In Addition To Starting Early, I Keep An Antique Hour Glass On My Desk And Every Hour Break Briefly To Do Pushups, Sit-ups, And Some Quick Stretches. I Find This Helps Keep The Blood (and Ideas) Flowing.