Writing Is A Dying Form. One Reads

It Is Difficult, When Faced With A Situation You Cannot Control, To Admit You Can Do Nothing.

But I Must Admit I Miss You Terribly. The World Is Too Quiet Without You Nearby.

Writing Is A Dying Form. One Reads Of This Every Day.

If You Are Interested In Happy Endings, You Would Be Better Off Reading Some Other Book. In This Book, Not Only Is There No Happy Ending, There Is No Happy Beginning And Very Few Happy Things In The Middle. This Is Because Not Very Many Happy Things Happened In The Lives Of The Three Baudelaire Youngsters.

Everyone, At Some Point In Their Lives, Wakes Up In The Middle Of The Night With The Feeling That They Are All Alone In The World, And That Nobody Loves Them Now And That Nobody Will Ever Love Them, And That They Will Never Have A Decent Night's Sleep Again And Will Spend Their Lives Wandering Blearily Around A Loveless Landscape, Hoping Desperately That Their Circumstances Will Improve, But Suspecting, In Their Heart Of Hearts, That They Will Remain Unloved Forever. The Best Thing To Do In These Circumstances Is To Wake Somebody Else Up, So That They Can Feel This Way, Too.