For The First Time We Have A

Thus, From Admiration Of One Wise And Innocent Child, And From A Misheard Remark, The Process That Not Even Aristotle Could Codify Was Triggered. Where Do You Get Your Ideas? I Purposely Mishear Things.

I Never Send A Story Off Until I Have Read It Aloud To At Least Two Or Three People. Because When I Read - And I Don't Need Their Criticism, What I Need Is My Own - When I Read It Aloud, There Is A Flow, There Is A Poetry To It.

I Was The Green Monkey, The Pariah. And I Had No Friends. Not Just A Few Friends, Or One Good Friend, Or Grudging Acceptance By Other Misfits And Outcasts. I Was Alone. All Stinking Alone, Without Even An Imaginary Playmate.

There Is Harlan Ellison The Human Being, Who Takes A Crap A Couple Of Times A Day, And Who Farts, And Who Eats Chicken Croquettes, If I Can Find Them. And Then There Is The Writer, This Writer-person, Who Is A Much Finer Person Than I. Much More Orderly, Much More Meaningful. Worthier, Than I [am].

You Are Not Entitled To Your Opinion. You Are Entitled To Your Informed Opinion. No One Is Entitled To Be Ignorant.