In Order Really To Write One Has

I'm Full Of Self-doubt. I Doubt Everything I Do. Everything I Do Is A Failure.

Life Is Tragic But It's Equally Comic.

I Have Never Really Got Used To Being On This Earth. Sometimes I Think Our Presence Here Is Due To A Cosmic Blunder, That We Were Meant For Another Planet Altogether, With Other Arrangements, And Other Laws, And Other, Grimmer Skies. I Try To Imagine It, Our True Place, Off On The Far Side Of The Galaxy, Whirling And Whirling. And The Ones Who Were Meant For Here, Are They Out There, Baffled And Homesick, Like Us? No, They Would Have Become Extinct Long Ago. How Could They Survive, These Gentle Earthlings, In A World That Was Made To Contain Us.

Dogs Are Dim Creatures, Do Not Speak To Me Of Their Good Sense--have You Ever Heard Of A Team Of Tomcats Hauling A Sled Across The Frozen Wastes?

I Don't Own A Kindle, No. I Love Books, They Are Beautiful Objects.