His Tiredness Hurt So Much It Kept

This Evening I Begin A Notebook. If Anyone Reads This, I Trust They Will Forgive My Overuse Of "i". I Can't Stop It. I'm Writing This.

[t]hat I Could Find Company And Consolation And Hope In An Object Pulled Almost At Random From A Bookshelf--felt Akin To An Instance Of Religious Grace.

Remind Me Again What's Wrong With Dave Matthews?" "basically Everything, Except Technical Proficiency," Walter Said. "right." "but Maybe Especially The Banality Of The Lyrics. 'gotta Be Free, So Free, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Can't Live Without My Freedom, Yeah Yeah.' That's Pretty Much Every Song.

I Wrote Two Plotted Books, Got Some Of The Fundamentals Of Storytelling Down, Then... It's Sort Of Like Taking The Training Wheels Off, Trying To Write A Book That's Fun In The Same Way Without Relying On Quite Such Mechanical Or External Beats.

You Encountered A Misery Near The End Of The Day And It Took A While To Gauge Its Full Extent. Some Miseries Had Sharp Curvature And Could Be Negotiated Readily. Others Had Almost No Curvature And You Knew You'd Be Spending Hours Turning The Corner. Great Whopping-big Planet-sized Miseries.