That's The Way I Remember Them, Heading

For These Are Not As They Might Seem To Be, The Ruins Of Our Civilization, But Are Temporary Encampment And Outposts Of The Civilization That We - You And I - Shall Build.

Novels Are About Men And Women And Children And Dogs, Not Politics.

It Was A Splendid Summer Morning And It Seemed As If Nothing Could Go Wrong.

Fear Tastes Like A Rusty Knife And Do Not Let Her Into Your House.

She Cried For Herself, She Cried Because She Was Afraid That She Herself Might Die In The Night, Because She Was Alone In The World, Because Her Desperate And Empty Life Was Not An Overture But An Ending, And Through It All She Could See Was The Rough, Brutal Shape Of A Coffin.