I Have No Faith At

Even In Dialogue, Your Own Style Rules Your Selection. Do Not Give Yourself A Blank Check Of This Kind: 'i'll Merely Reproduce What I Think A Character Like So-and-so Would Say.' You Have To Reproduce It In The Way Your Literary Premises Dictate.

She Smiled. She Knew She Was Dying. But It Did Not Matter Any Longer. She Had Known Something Which No Human Words Could Ever Tell And She Knew It Now. She Had Been Awaiting It And She Felt It, As If It Had Been, As If She Had Lived It. Life Had Been, If Only Because She Had Known It Could Be, And She Felt It Now As A Hymn Without Sound, Deep Under The Little Whole That Dripped Red Drops Into The Snow, Deeper Than That From Which The Red Drops Came. A Moment Or An Eternity- Did It Matter? Life, Undefeated, Existed And Could Exist. She Smiled, Her Last Smile, To So Much That Had Been Possible.

That Time And Those People Are Upon You!

If You Saw Atlas, The Giant Who Holds The World On His Shoulders, If You Saw That He Stood, Blood Running Down His Chest, His Knees Buckling, His Arms Trembling But Still Trying To Hold The World Aloft With The Last Of His Strength, And The Greater His Effort The Heavier The World Bore Down Upon His Shoulders - What Would You Tell Him?" I…don't Know. What…could He Do? What Would You Tell Him?" To Shrug.

The Important Consideration Is Not Your Opponents, But Yourself. It Is Bad To Scream At Them, Not Because It Hurts Them, They Ought To Be Hurt, But Because It Hurts You. Anger Is A Form Of Recognition. It Amounts To Admitting That Those People Are Important To You And That They Have The Power To Hurt You. Actually, They Haven't.