I Was Very Much A Child Of

I'm A Workmanlike Writer. I Show Up Every Day And Treat It Like A Job. The Old Rule That Writing Is Like Any Other Job, The First Rule Is That You Must Show Up. I'm At The Keyboard From 9 To 4 Every Day.

In Her Mind's Eye She Saw It, Saw It All At Last: The Rolling Armies And The Flames Of Battle; The Graves And Pits And Dying Cries Of A Hundred Million Souls; The Spreading Darkness, Like A Black Wing Stretching Over The Earth; The Last, Bitter Hours Of Cruelty And Sorrow, And The Terrible, Final Flights; Death's Great Dominion Over All, And, At The Last, Empty Cities, Becalmed By The Silence Of A Hundred Years. Already These Things Were Coming To Pass.

I Like To Break Left When People Think I'm Going To Go Right.

This Ravishing World. This Achingly Bittersweet, Ravishing World.

It Had Never Occurred To Her That God Would Cry, But Of Course That Was Wrong. God Would Be Crying All The Time. He Would Cry And Cry And Never Stop.