Any Time You Try To Create An

For Many Years, People Would Say, "only Child? Must Have Been Terrible," And I Wanted To Say, "you Are Mentally Ill, Because It Was The Greatest." You Got All The Attention. You Never Had To Share Anything. No One Ever Ate Your Food. No One Ever Took Your Toys. But The Unintended Consequence Was That I Didn't Appreciate That Being Universally Loved Was Not Only Not Required For Happiness, But Also Not Possible.

All Books Should Be Trilogies; I Mean I Think We All Agree On That.

My Hope When I Wrote The First Book Was That I Would Get To Do It Again. But It Was Not Entirely Clear That That Would Happen.

I Had Some Very, Very Fond Memories Of The People I Worked With And The Authors I Worked With - And I Won't Mention Any Names - But As I Have Been Traveling Through Rural Maine Over The Past Few Weeks, One Of My Favorite Things To Do Is To Go Into Bookstores On The Side Of Rural Routes And Paw Through The Old Copies Of Tom Clancy And Trevanian Books They Have In There For Weird Old 1970s Thrillers That I Haven't Read Yet.

There Is No Metaphor For Death. All Comparisons Are Odious, But I'll Do One Anyway. We All Have These Moments Of Harsh Clarity Where We Realize That Something Is Gone, Whether That Is Youth, Whether That Is Someone We Care About, Whether That Is Where We Literally Lose Someone We Care About To Death. Or We End A Relationship That We Thought Would Last Forever, Or Have One Ended For Us. We All Have These Moments In Life Where It Seems Impossible To Fill Up The Time That We Have Left For Us, And Yet We Have To Do It Somehow.