The Novel Should Be Understood

He Got Up And Walked Out, So I Missed Seeing The Powerful Sorcerer Doing His Powerful Sorcery, Which Would Have Involved Him Closing His Eyes And Then, I Don't Know, Maybe Taking A Deep Breath Or Something.

One Nice Thing About Putting The Thing Away For A Couple Of Months Before Looking At It Is That You Start Appreciate Your Own Wit. Of Course, This Can Be Carried Too Far. But It's Kind Of Cool When You Crack Up A Piece Of Writing, And Then Realize You Wrote It. I Recommend This Feeling.

In Our Memories, There Is A Graveyard Where We Bury Our Dead. They All Lie There Together, The Loved Ones And The Ones We Hated, Friends And Foes And Kin, With No Distinction Among Them. We Have To Mourn Every One Of Them, Because Our Memories Have Made Them As Much A Part Of Us As Our Bones Or Our Skin. If We Don't, We've No Right To Remember Anything At All.

The Novel Should Be Understood As A Structure Built To Accommodate The Greatest Possible Amount Of Cool Stuff.

A Stupid Person Can Make Only Certain, Limited Types Of Errors; The Mistakes Open To A Clever Fellow Are Far Broader. But To The One Who Knows How Smart He Is Compared To Everyone Else, The Possibilities For True Idiocy Are Boundless.