I think the sun is a flower, That blooms for just one hour. - Ray Bradbury

This afternoon, burn down the house. Tomorrow, pour critical water upon the simmering coals. Time enough to think and cut and rewrite tomorrow. But today-explode-fly-apart-disintegrate! The other six or seven drafts are going to be pure torture. So why not enjoy the first draft, in the hope that your joy will seek and find others in the world who, by reading your story, will catch fire, too?

Good to evil seems evil.

I’ve done a prideful thing, a thing more sinful than she ever done to me. I took the bottom out of her life.