Make This The Golden Rule, The Equivalent

If You Want Something You Can Have It, But Only If You Want Everything That Goes With It, Including All The Hard Work And The Despair, And Only If You're Willing To Risk Failure.

One Curious Thing About Growing Up Is That You Don't Only Move Forward In Time; You Move Backwards As Well, As Pieces Of Your Parents' And Grandparents' Lives Come To You.

A Story, To Me, Has A Particular Sprite, Like The Angel Of The Spirit Of That Story - And It's My Job To Attend To What It Wants To Do. When I Tell The Story Of Cinderella, The Sprite Does Not Want Me To Make It Into An Allegory Of The Fall Of Communism. The Sprite Would Be Unhappy If I Did That.

On A Cold, Fretful Afternoon In Early October, 1872, A Hansom Cab Drew Up Outside The Offices Of Lockhart And Selby, Shipping Agents, In The Financial Heart Of London, And A Young Girl Got Out And Paid The Driver. She Was A Person Of Sixteen Or So--alone, And Uncommonly Pretty. She Was Slender And Pale, And Dressed In Mourning, With A Black Bonnet Under Which She Tucked Back A Straying Twist Of Blond Hair That The Wind Had Teased Loose. She Had Unusually Dark Brown Eyes For One So Fair. Her Name Was Sally Lockhart; And Within Fifteen Minutes, She Was Going To Kill A Man.

We Don't Need Lists Of Rights And Wrongs, Tables Of Do's And Don'ts: We Need Books, Time, And Silence. Thou Shalt Not Is Soon Forgotten, But Once Upon A Time Lasts Forever.