Does love still exist if you can’t say it? If you can’t admit it?
In general, I don't know when inspiration will pop up.
The reader has certain rights. He bought your story. Think of this as an implicit contract. He's entitled to be entertained, instructed, amused; maybe all three. If he quits in the middle, or puts the book down feeling his time has been wasted, you're in violation.
Ethics change with technology.
In hindsight it may even seem inevitable that a socialist society will starve when it runs out of capitalists.
Intelligence is just a tool to be used toward a goal, and goals are not always chosen intelligently.
There were timelines branching and branching, a mega-universe of universes, millions more every minute. Billions? Trillions? The universe split every time someone made a decision. Split, so that every decision ever made could go both ways. Every choice made by every man, woman, and child was reversed in the universe next door.
You're like the devil with horns in your head, the only way I'll get you is to get you in bed.
Success comes from persistently improving and inventing, not from persistently promoting what’s not working.
Love wants to be confirmed with concrete symbols, but recklessness loves instability.
That's good when you don't know what you're doing. But you're doing it and it's spontaneous and you're not afraid.