There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive.

You hear doom and gloom about the Internet ruining young people's command of English - that's nonsense.

Human understanding is fallible, and we see through a glass, darkly. Any religion is a shadow of God. But the shadows of God are not God.

When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood; like a house in a whirlwind, or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard powerless to stop it. It's only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you are telling it, to yourself or to someone else.

Short forms are returning online. Interactivity is coming back; it was always there in oral storytelling.

Once upon a time, novelists of the 19th century, such as Charles Dickens, published in serial form.

I want, I don’t want. How can one live with such a heart?