Mister, We Deal In Lead.

When We Blew The First Atomic Bomb At White Sands Near The End Of The War, Nobody Knew What Was Going To Happen. There Was A Theory That The Chain Reaction Would Continue Forever. And We Would Have Created A Little Tiny Sun Out There In The Desert That Would Burn Until The End Of The Universe. It Wasn't A Widely Held Theory But It Was A Theory That Nobody Had A Way Of Disproving. There Were People Who Thought It Wouldn't Go Off At All, That It Would Simply Sit Out There And Melt And Produce A Great Big Dirty Cloud Of Radioactivity. Nobody Knew.

‎if You Want To Be A Writer, You Must Do Two Things Above All Others: Read A Lot And Write A Lot…reading Is The Creative Center Of A Writer’s Life…you Cannot Hope To Sweep Someone Else Away By The Force Of Your Writing Until It Has Been Done To You.

Time Apparently Did Nothing But Blunt Grief’s Sharpest Edge So That It Hacked Rather Than Sliced.

Hemingway Sucks. If I Set Out To Write That Way, It Would Have Been Been Hollow And Lifeless Because It Wasn't Me.

Want A Coke?” Abra Asked. “sugar Solves Lots Of Problems, That’s What I Think.