Winning Doesn't Mean My Book Is Better

Let Every Man Shovel Out His Own Snow, And The Whole City Will Be Passable," Said Gamache. Seeing Beauvoir's Puzzled Expression He Added, "emerson." "lake And Palmer?" "ralph And Waldo.

Every Decade Of My Life I Attempted To Write A Novel. But I Had Nothing To Say. I Was Far Too Self-absorbed, And Now I Realize I Was Writing For Others, So That They'd Applaud Me, See My Genius, Tell Me How Wonderful I Am, Or Be Jealous Of My Success.

It's A Shame That Creativity And Sloth Look Exactly The Same.

The Leaves Had Fallen From The Trees And Lay Crisp And Crackling Beneath His Feet. Picking One Up He Marveled, Not For The First Time, At The Perfection Of Nature Where Leaves Were Most Beautiful At The Very End Of Their Lives.

He Tried To Let Her Know It Would Be All Right. Eventually. Life Wouldn't Always Be This Painful. The World Wouldn't Always Be This Brutal. Give It Time, Little One. Give It Another Chance. Come Back.