If Power Was An Illusion, Wasn't Weakness

If There's No Game, Isn't Winning A Pretty Meaningless Concept?

I Do Think, Half Of What We Call Madness Is Just Some Poor Slob Dealing With Pain By A Strategy That Annoys The People Around Him.

From Fried Witchetty Grubs To Gold-plated Turnips, When You're A Writer You Never Know What's Going To Appear On Your Plate Next. It Keeps A Woman Alert, It Does.

The Rule For Finding Plots For Character-centered Novels, Which Is To Ask: 'so What's The Worst Possible Thing I Can Do To *this* Guy?' And Then Do It.

If You Desire A Man To Tell You Comfortable Lies About Your Prowess, And So Fetter Any Hope Of True Excellence, I'm Sure You May Find One Anywhere. Not All Prisons Are Made Of Iron Bars. Some Are Made Of Feather Beds.