Popularity is not an indication of quality.
Everything solid was first an idea.
Events, time, forms, all propel the inner plot within each of us.
The primary dues a writer or any artist pays is to remain sentient, and to forfeit the illusionary luxury of such anesthetics as avoidance, numbness, and denials.
Ridicule has historically proven itself a rickety fence for great ideas.
Apart from Love, which is not a human emotion, of all the rest my last words would best read: It's all for the experience.