The Sum Of A Million Facts Is

The Colors Of The Underwater Rock [are] As Pale And Delicate As Those In The Wardrobe Of An 18th-century Marchioness.

I Try To Be As Ruthless As Possible. I Ask Myself Of Each Sentence, "is It Clear? Is It True? Does It Feel Good?" And If It's Not, Then I Rewrite It.

I Realized That The Worst Thing That Could Happen To Me Was About To Happen To Me.

To The Medieval Mind The Possibility Of Doubt Did Not Exist.

It Was His [gen. Douglas Macarthur's] Relationship With The Administration In Washington Which Became Poisoned By His Egomania. Link Upon Link The Bond Between Events On The Battlefield And His Own Ruin Was Forged, And, As Is Essential In Genuine Tragedy, The Gods Used The Victim Himself To Forge The Links.