I love to write. But it has never gotten any easier to do and you can't expect it to if you keep trying for something better than you can do.

I guard my treasures: my thought, my will, my freedom. And the greatest of these is freedom.

He thought about her deliberately. Hard. Nothing happened. He thought of her fair, undistinguished, fresh face that made your heart miss a beat when you thought about it. His heart missed a beat. Obedient heart! Like the first primrose. Not any primrose. The first primrose.

Written By William Golding

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