Because She Was A Princess

One Of The Biggest, And Possibly The Biggest, Obstacle To Becoming A Writer... Is Learning To Live With The Fact That The Wonderful Story In Your Head Is Infinitely Better, Truer, More Moving, More Fascinating, More Perceptive, Than Anything You're Going To Manage To Get Down On Paper.

You Are Attempting To Be Logical, I Suspect, And Logic Has Little To Do With Government, And Nothing At All To Do With Military Administration.

I Found That The Only Way I Could Control This Sorrow Was Not To Think Of [it] At All, Which Was Almost As Painful As The Loss Itself.

Tsornin's Nostrils Showed Red, But His Ears Were As Alert As Ever, And Occasionally He Would Rub His Nose Gently Against The Nape Of Her Neck, Just In Case She Was Momentarily Not Thinking About Him.

The Bus Timetable Sites Are All Run By An Inbred Cabal Of Malicious Gnomes. Who Don’t Speak English. And Who Don’t Count Very Well Either. Or Tell Time. And They Certainly Can’t Read Maps.