Spoilt Pleasure Is A Sad, Unseemly Thing;

Art, At Any Rate In A Novel, Must Be Indissolubly Linked With Craft.

Expectations Are The Most Perilous Form Of Dream, And When Dreams Do Realise Themselves It Is In The Waking World: The Difference Is Subtly But Often Painfully Felt.

All Good Dialogue Perhaps Deals With Something Unprecedented.

Nobody Ever Dies Of An Indignity.

Though Not All Reading Children Grow Up To Be Writers, I Take It That Most Creative Writers Must In Their Day Have Been Reading Children.