What Can Be Done When You’re Eleven

I Don't Want To Speak Too Disparagingly Of My Generation (actually I Do, We Had A Chance To Change The World And Opted For The Home Shopping Network Instead), But There Was A View Among The Student Writers I Knew At That Time That Good Writing Came Spontaneously, In An Uprush Of Feeling That Had To Be Caught At Once; When You Were Building That All-important Stairway To Heaven, You Couldn't Just Stand Around With Your Hammer In Your Hand.

He Did It (listened) As The World's Most Charming And Magnetic People Do, Always Asking The Right Question At The Right Time, Never Fidgeting Or Taking His Eyes From The Speaker's Face, Making The Other Guy Feel Like The Most Knowledgeable, Brilliant, And Intellectually Savvy Person On The Planet.

How Does It Happen That A Writer Who's Not Even Very Good - And I Can Say That, I've Read Four Or Five Of His Books - Gets To Be In Charge Of The World's Destiny? Or Of The Entire Universe's?" If He's Not Very Good, Why Didn't You Stop At One?" Mrs. Tassenbaum Smiled. "touché. He Is Readable, I'll Give Him That - Tells A Good Story.

There Had Never Been A Shortage Of Fools In The World

Roland Had Taught Him That Self-deception Was Nothing But Pride In Disguise, An Indulgence To Be Denied.