It was how wars really ended, Dieffenbaker supposed -- not at truce tables but in cancer wards and office cafeterias and traffic jams. Wars died one tiny piece at a time, each piece something that fell like a memory, each lost like an echo that fades in winding hills. In the end even war ran up the white flag. Or so he hoped. He hoped that in the end even war surrendered.

Sometimes the things presented to us as choices aren't choices at all.

Time continued to pass - the oldest trick in the world, and maybe the only one that really is magic.

With six weeks' worth of recuperation time, you'll also be able to see any glaring holes in the plot or character development. And listen--if you spot a few of these big holes, you are forbidden to feel depressed about them or to beat up on yourself. Screw-ups happen to the best of us.

Sometimes stories cry out to be told in such loud voices that you write them just to shut them up.

A man with a good wife is the luckiest of God's creatures.

Do any men grow up or do they only come of age?