I Write In The Novel's Afterword That

If Your Face Is Swollen From The Severe Beatings Of Life, Smile And Pretend To Be A Fat Man.

It's Extremely Hard For Athletes To Accept What's Happened To Them Sometimes. It's Hard To Be Beaten By A Small Margin, And I've Spoken With Athletes Who, For Years Afterward, Have Been Tormented By The Knowledge That, Had They Done Something Ever So Slightly Different, They Could Have Been One-ten-thousandth Of A Second Quicker.

On The Girl's Brown Legs There Were Many Small White Scars. I Was Thinking, Do Those Scars Cover The Whole Of You, Like The Stars And The Moons On Your Dress? I Thought That Would Be Pretty Too, And I Ask You Right Here Please To Agree With Me That A Scar Is Never Ugly. That Is What The Scar Makers Want Us To Think. But You And I, We Must Make An Agreement To Defy Them. We Must See All Scars As Beauty. Okay? This Will Be Our Secret. Because Take It From Me, A Scar Does Not Form On The Dying. A Scar Means, I Survived.

You May Think That's Funny Osama But You Never Can Squeeze Every Last Bit Of Pride Out Of A Human Being. It's Like A Tube Of Toothpaste. You Can Twist It And You Can Crush It But There's Always A Tiny Bit Left Isn't There?

Psychiatry In This Place Is Like Serving An In-flight Meal In The Middle Of A Plane Crash. If I Wanted To Make You Well, As A Doctor, I Should Be Giving You A Parachute, Not A Cheese-and-pickle Sandwich.