The Most Beautiful Fighting Machine I Have

Though There Is One Part Of Writing That Is Solid And You Do It No Harm By Talking About It, The Other Is Fragile, And If You Talk About It, The Structure Cracks And You Have Nothing.

He No Longer Dreamed Of Storms, Nor Of Women, Nor Of Great Occurrences, Nor Of Great Fish, Nor Fights, Nor Contests Of Strength, Nor Of His Wife. He Only Dreamed Of Places Now And The Lions On The Beach. They Played Like Young Cats In The Dusk And He Loved Them As He Loved The Boy. He Never Dreamed About The Boy. He Simply Woke, Looked Out The Open Door At The Moon And Unrolled His Trousers And Put Them On.

Man Is Not Made For Defeat.

I Never Had To Choose A Subject - My Subject Rather Chose Me.

Details Make Stories Human, And The More Human A Story Can Be, The Better.