We Try To Spread The

Hours Later The Blank Sheet Still Stared At Me, And I Beat My Fist Against The Desk In Fury And Fustration, Striking It So Hard My Hand Bled. That Is How Heavy A Secret Can Become. It Can Make Blood Flow Easier Than Ink.

Reading Can Almost Be Viewed As Empathy Training. Movies Have Better Action Scenes, Sure. But Books Are Uniquely Suited To Showing You The Inside Of Another Person's Head. That Is The Root Of Empathy. That's The First Step To Understanding You're Not Alone In The World.

I Loved College. I Wish I Was Still Taking Classes Instead Of Teaching Them.

The Thing That Helps Me Do A Good Job Is That I Don't Feel The Need To Explain Everything About The World To My Reader. I'm Not Writing A History Text On The Four Corners. I'm Telling A Story That's Set There. The Setting Belongs In The Background For The Most Part, And It's Easy For Fantasy Authors To Forget That. That's One Of The Unfortunate Parts Of Tolkien's Legacy, In My Opinion. Read The First Hundred Pages Of The Fellowship Of The Ring And You Start To Get Pissed, "shut Up About The Shire's Museums! Isn't The World Supposed To Be In Peril Or Something?"

I Would Never Normally Approach A Woman In This Way, But I Couldn't Help But Notice That You Have The Eyes Of A Lady I Was Once Desperately In Love With. " "what A Shame To Love Only Once," She Said, Showing Her White Teeth In A Wicked Smile. "i've Heard Some Men Can Manage Twice Or Even More." I Ignored Her Gibe. "i Am Only A Fool Once. Never Will I Love Again.