Terror Is The Desire To Save Your

She'd Thought Love Had Something To Do With Happiness, But It Turned Out They Were Not Even Vaguely Related. Love Was Closer To A Need, No Different From The Need To Eat, To Breathe.

Was There Any Human Urge More Pitiful-or More Intense- Than Wanting Another Chance At Something?

I Remind Myself That No One Day Of Writing Matters All That Much. A Story Is Built Somewhat Like A Stalactite - One Little Drip Of Mud And Grit At A Time.

A Pamphlet, No Matter How Good, Is Never Read More Than Once, But A Song Is Learned By Heart And Repeated Over And Over. And I Maintain That If A Person Can Put A Few Common Sense Facts Into A Song And Dress Them Up In A Cloak Of Humor, He Will Succeed In Reaching A Great Number Of Workers Who Are Too Unintelligent Or Too Indifferent To Read.

He Understood That The Ghost Existed First And Foremost Within His Own Head. That Maybe Ghosts Always Haunted Minds, Not Places. If He Wanted To Take A Shot At It, He’d Have To Turn The Barrel Against His Own Temple.