Fiction Should Always Steer Clear Of Political

How Fragile We Are Under The Sheltering Sky. Behind The Sheltering Sky Is A Vast Dark Universe, And We're Just So Small.

We've Never Managed, Either One Of Us, To Get All The Way Into Life. We're Hanging On To The Outside For All We're Worth, Convinced We're Going To Fall Off At The Next Bump.

He Awoke, Opened His Eye. The Room Meant Very Little To Him; He Was Too Deeply Immersed In The Non-being From Which He Had Just Come. If He Had Not The Energy To Ascertain His Position In Time And Space, He Also Lacked The Desire. ... In Utter Comfort, Utter Relaxation He Lay Absolutely Still For A While, And Then Sank Back Into On The The Light Momentary Sleeps That Occur After A Long, Profound One.

Because We Don't Know When We Will Die, We Get To Think Of Life As An Inexhaustible Well. Yet Everything Happens Only A Certain Number Of Times, And A Very Small Number Really. How Many More Times Will You Remember A Certain Afternoon Of Your Childhood, An Afternoon That Is So Deeply A Part Of Your Being That You Can't Even Conceive Of Your Life Without It? Perhaps Four Or Five Times More, Perhaps Not Even That. How Many More Times Will You Watch The Full Moon Rise? Perhaps 20. And Yet It All Seems Limitless.

Fiction Should Always Steer Clear Of Political Considerations.