[about A Tiresome Colleague]: He Could Bore

War Created Bizarre Allies, While Peace Itself Could Be Divisive.

His Eyes Beheld Beauty Not In Reality But In The Printed Word. Standing In The Waiting-room, He Realized That In His Life He Had Accepted Secondary Experience -- The Experience Of Reading Someone Else's Thoughts -- Over Real Life.

I Am, Of Course, A Frustrated Rock Star - I'd Much Rather Be A Rock Star Than A Writer. Or Own A Record Shop. Still, It's Not A Bad Life, Is It? You Just Sit At A Computer And Make Stuff Up.

It Was The Laughter Of Birthdays, Of Money Found In An Old Pocket.

No Matter How Many Awards You've Won Or How Many Sales You've Got, Come The Next Book It's Still A Blank Sheet Of Paper And You're Still Panicking Like Hell That You've Got Nothing New To Say.