"see," Sasha Muttered, Eyeing The

Like All Failed Experiments, That One Taught Me Something I Didn’t Expect: One Key Ingredient Of So-called Experience Is The Delusional Faith That It Is Unique And Special, That Those Included In It Are Privileged And Those Excluded From It Are Missing Out.

At Night, The House Thick With Sleep, She Would Peer Out Her Bedroom Window At The Trees And Sky And Feel The Presence Of A Mystery. Some Possibility That Included Her--separate From Her Present Life And Without Its Limitations. A Secret. Riding In The Car With Her Father, She Would Look Out At Other Cars Full Of People She'd Never Seen, Any One Of Whom She Might Someday Meet And Love, And Would Feel The World Holding Her Making Its Secret Plans.

I've Never Been That Confident. I Don't Tend To Think, Swaggeringly, I'm Going To Ace This. It's Just Not Who I Am.

A Swell Of Gratitude And Appreciation For His Assistant, As Opposed To The Murderous Rage He Felt Toward The Rest Of His Staff

We Lie. That's What We Do. You're Selling Me A Line Of Bullshit And You Want Me To Sell You A Line Of Bullshit Back So You Can Write A Major Line Of Bullshit And Be Paid For It.