There Are No Men Like Me. There's

I Can See A Scene In My Head, And When I Try To Get It Down In Words On Paper, The Words Are Clunky; The Scene Is Not Coming Across Right. So Frustrating. And There Are Days Where It Keeps Flowing. Open The Floodgates, And There It Is. Pages And Pages Coming. Where The Hell Does This All Come From? I Don't Know.

There Is No Creature On Earth Half So Terrifying As A Truly Just Man.

It Was A Story Called ‘the Hero’ Which I Sold To Galaxy Magazine In 1970, For $94.

A Few Days Ago She Had Been Wandering Around With A Swatch Of Black Silk Tied Over Her Eyes. Syrio Was Teaching Her To See With Her Ears And Her Nose And Her Skin, She Told Him. Before That, He Had Her Doing Spinds And Back Flips. "arya, Are You Certain You Want To Persist In This?" She Nodded. "tomorrow We're Going To Catch Cats." "cats." Ned Sighed.

Men Have Scars, Women Mysteries.