Me Is The Only One What Won't

You Ignorant Little Slug!" The Trunchbull Bellowed. "you Witless Weed! You Empty-headed Hamster! You Stupid Glob Of Glue!

The Writer Walks Out Of His Workroom In A Daze. He Wants A Drink. He Needs It. It Happens To Be A Fact That Nearly Every Writer Of Fiction In The World Drinks More Whisky Than Is Good For Him. He Does It To Give Himself Faith Hope And Courage. A Person Is A Fool To Become A Writer. His Only Compensation Is Absolute Freedom. He Has No Master Except His Own Soul And That I Am Sure Is Why He Does It.

I'm Wondering What To Read Next." Matilda Said. "i've Finished All The Children's Books.

If A Person Has Ugly Thoughts, It Begins To Show On The Face. And When That Person Has Ugly Thoughts Every Day, Every Week, Every Year, The Face Gets Uglier And Uglier Until You Can Hardly Bear To Look At It.

The Writer Has To Force Himself To Work. He Has To Make His Own Hours And If He Doesn't Go To His Desk At All There Is Nobody To Scold Him.