I'm Not Very Good At

What Is Any Of This To Us? Time Is Endless And Ours. Love And Death Are Only The Games We Play In It.

Hope Is A Punishable Offense. The Verdict Is Always Death; One More Death Of The Heart.

In The Greater Part Of Humankind There Resides An Instinct For Survival. It Is This Which Can Clutch At Straws And Effect A Rescue From Them. It Is This Which Can, Now And Then, Outwit Fate.

It Was Not Apathy. It Was An Intelligent Disinterest In Those Things That Could Have No Bearing On One's Existence.

I Must Suppose That Reading Wonderful Writers May, Inadvertently, Teach An Avid Reader A Great Deal -- Not Only About Life And Other Matters, But About How To Write. Therefore Doubtless I Have Benefited From Frequent Immersions In The Glowing Genius Of Others. It Would Be Nice To Think So. (i Do Actually Think So). But To Improve My Skills Will Never Be The Prompting Force Of My Reading -- That's Just Literary Lust.