A novel is not just a story; it is a constructed object, an artifice that must be as perfect as possible.
I don't know. Sometimes when I feel about to cry, it often evolves into an impulse to almost laugh. That must have been how I really felt at the time, because I laughed, almost giggled.
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing,