This Spiritualist, This Statistician, What Are You

All Investigations Of Time, However Sophisticated Or Abstract, Have At Their True Base The Human Fear Of Mortality.

Get Too Conceptual, Too Cute And Remote, And Your Characters Die On The Page.

Liebig Himself Seems To Have Occupied The Role Of A Gate, Or Sorting-demon, Such As His Younger Contemporary Clerk Maxwell Once Proposed, Helping To Concentrate Energy Into One Favored Room Of The Creation At The Expense Of Everything Else.

Despair Came Over Her, As It Will When Nobody Around Has Any Sexual Relevance To You.

Life's Single Lesson: That There Is More Accident To It Than A Man Can Ever Admit To In A Lifetime And Stay Sane.