The writer probably knows what he meant when he wrote a book, but he should immediately forget what he meant when he's written it.

Percival was mouse-coloured and had not been very attractive even to his mother.

Which is better--to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?

Novelists do not write as birds sing, by the push of nature. It is part of the job that there should be much routine and some daily stuff on the level of carpentry.

They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate.

The beast was harmless and horrible; and the news must reach the others as soon as possible.

Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us.