Men Are Not The Causers Of History.

If You Run Away From Trouble, It Always Follows.' Rather My Impression, Too. Though That Never Stopped Me Trying.

The So-called Real World. Human Misery And Sadness. Blind Politics And General Cruelty.

I Held Out My Book. It Was Precious To Me, As Were All The Things I'd Written; Even Where I Despised Their Inadequacy There Was Not One I Would Disown. Each Tore Its Way From My Entrails. Each Had Shortened My Life, Killed Me With Its Own Special Little Death.

Writers Tell Stories Better, Because They've Had More Practice, But Everyone Has A Book In Them. Yes, That Old Cliche.

Are Not All Loves Secretly The Same? A Hundred Flowers Sprung From A Single Root.