If One Book's Done This Well, You

What Actually Happens When You Die Is That Your Brain Stops Working And Your Body Rots, Like Rabbit Did When He Died And We Buried Him In The Earth At The Bottom Of The Garden. And All His Molecules Were Broken Down Into Other Molecules And They Went Into The Earth And Were Eaten By Worms And Went Into The Plants And If We Go And Dig In The Same Place In 10 Years There Will Be Nothing Exept His Skeleton Left. And In 1,000 Years Even His Skeleton Will Be Gone. But That Is All Right Because He Is A Part Of The Flowers And The Apple Tree And The Hawthorn Bush Now.

Sometimes We Get Sad About Things And We Don't Like To Tell Other People That We Are Sad About Them. We Like To Keep It A Secret. Or Sometimes, We Are Sad But We Really Don't Know Why We Are Sad, So We Say We Aren't Sad But We Really Are.

I Think The U.k. Is Too Small To Write About From Within It And Still Make It Seem Foreign And Exotic And Interesting.

As To The Number Of Novels I've Abandoned... I Shudder To Think. I Have Thrown Away Five Completed Novels, And That's A Gruesome Enough Figure. But Not Necessarily A Waste Of Effort.

Lots Of Things Are Mysteries. But That Doesn't Mean There Isn't An Answer To Them. It's Just That Scientists Haven't Found The Answer Yet.