In Order Really To Write One Has

Dogs Are Dim Creatures, Do Not Speak To Me Of Their Good Sense--have You Ever Heard Of A Team Of Tomcats Hauling A Sled Across The Frozen Wastes?

Fictional Characters Are Made Of Words, Not Flesh; They Do Not Have Free Will, They Do Not Exercise Volition. They Are Easily Born, And As Easily Killed Off.

It's Great People Still Care About Books, And It's Great You Can Still Fashion A Life From Literature.

Everything We Do Is Tinged With The Knowledge That This May Be The Last Time That We Will Do This, And That Makes What We're Doing Incredibly Sweet.

I Had Never Liked, Even Feared A Little, This Wild Reach Of Marsh And Mud Flats Where Everything Seemed Turned Away From The Land, Looking Off Desperately Toward The Horizon As If In Mute Search For A Sign Of Rescue.