A Hope Fulfilled Is Already Half A

Nothing Is Boring Exept To People Who Aren't Really Paying Attention.

Writers, Unlike Most People, Tell Their Best Lies When They Are Alone.

The True Magic Of This Broken World Lay In The Ability Of The Things It Contained To Vanish, To Become So Thoroughly Lost, That They Might Never Have Existed In The First Place.

The Thing That Strikes Me Now When I Think About The Wilderness Of Childhood Is The Incredible Degree Of Freedom My Parents Gave Me To Adventure There. A Very Grave, Very Significant Shift In Our Idea Of Childhood Has Occurred Since Then. The Wilderness Of Childhood Is Gone; The Days Of Adventure Are Past. The Land Ruled By Children, To Which A Kid Might Exile Himself For At Least Some Portion Of Every Day From The Neighboring Kingdom Of Adulthood, Has In Large Part Been Taken Over, Co-opted, Colonized, And Finally Absorbed By The Neighbors.

With Patience And Calm, Persistence And Stoicism, Good Handwriting And Careful Labeling, They Would Meet Persecution, Indignity, And Hardship Head-on.