Because She Was A Princess She Had

Oh, Why Does Compassion Weaken Us?' It Doesn't, Really...somewhere Where It All Balances Out-don't The Philosophers Have A Name For It, The Perfect Place, The Place Where The Answers Live?-if We Could Go There, You Could See It Doesn't.it Only Looks, A Little Bit, Like It Does, From Here, Like An Ant At The Foot Of An Oak Tree. He Doesn't Have A Clue That It's A Tree; It's The Beginning Of The Wall Round The World, To Him.

Beauty: "you Called Me Beautiful Last Night." Beast: "you Do Not Believe Me Then?" Beauty: "well - No. Any Number Of Mirrors Have Told Me Otherwise." Beast: "you Will Find No Mirrors Here, For I Cannot Bear Them: Nor Any Quiet Water In Ponds. And Since I Am The Only One Who Sees You, Why Are You Not Then Beautiful?

The Story Is Always Better Than Your Ability To Write It.

My Books Happen. They Tend To Blast In From Nowhere, Seize Me By The Throat, And Howl 'write Me! Write Me Now!' But They Rarely Stand Still Long Enough For Me To See What And Who They Are, Before They Hurtle Away Again. And So I Spend A Lot Of Time Running After Them, Like A Thrown Rider After An Escaped Horse, Saying 'wait For Me! Wait For Me!' And Waving My Notebook In The Air.

I Advise Those Who Want To Become Writers To Study Veterinary Medicine, Which Is Easier. You Don't Want To Be A Writer Unless You Have No Choice - And If You Have No Choice, Good Luck To You.