Time Is A Rigid, Bonelike

In A World In Which Time Is A Circle, Every Handshake, Every Kiss, Every Birth, Every Word, Will Be Repeated Precisely.

What Sense Is There In Continuing When One Has Seen The Future?

Writers Read Essays And Serious Thinkers And Serious Readers... That Is A Small Population.

For It Is Only Habit And Memory That Dulls The Physical Passion. Without Memory, Each Night Is The First Night, Each Morning Is The First Morning, Each Kiss And Touch Are The First.

If You Over-plot Your Book You Strangle Your Characters. Your Characters Have To Have Enough Freedom And Life To Be Able To Surprise You.