To Write Is Human, To Edit Is

The Exhilaration Was Hard To Explain. It Was A Lonely Feeling — A Somehow Melancholy Feeling. He Was Outside; He Passed On The Wings Of The Wind, And None Of The People Beyond The Brightly Lighted Squares Of Their Windows Saw Him. They Were Inside, Inside Where There Was Light And Warmth. They Didn't Know He Had Passed Them; Only He Knew. It Was A Secret Thing.

May You Find Your Tower, Roland, And Breach It, And May You Climb To The Top!

A Person Could See A Lot Without Ever Leaving His Own Living Room. Especially If He Had The Right Tools.

People Seem To Think There's A Magic Formula To Writing, I Just Write 1 Word At A Time.

Pride Was The Belt You Used To Hold Your Pants Up When You Had No Pants.