Man Makes Plans . . . And

That's The Best Thing About Writing, When You're In That Zone, You're Porous, Ready To Absorb The Solution.

I'm Never Going To Be A Tom Clancy. And I Wouldn't Really Want To Be - Not That I Have Anything Against Him, And I Wish Him Continued Success - Because That's Not Why I'm Writing Novels. I'm Doing It Because I Have To. I Feel Like I Have To, Anyway.

...landsman Doesn't Buy That. Bina Never Stopped Wanting To Redeem The World. She Just Let The World She Was Trying To Redeem Get Smaller And Smaller Until At One Point, It Could Be Bounded In The Hat Of A Hopeless Policeman.

I Have A Deadline. I'm Glad. I Think That Will Help Me Get It Done.

Nothing That Had Ever Happened To Him, Not The Shooting Of Oyster, Or The Piteous Muttering Expiration Of John Wesley Shannenhouse, Or The Death Of His Father, Or Internment Of His Mother And Grandfather, Not Even The Drowning Of His Beloved Brother, Had Ever Broken His Heart Quite As Terribly As The Realization, When He Was Halfway To The Rimed Zinc Hatch Of The German Station, That He Was Hauling A Corpse Behind Him