Look at that by - (best sales books of all time .txt) π
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116
ed, they had not as yet even been formulated. No prob-lem. He could imagine them, guess them, practice them himself instead. As strictly and mercilessly as he could.
His mentors? First of all, the journalists. What did he draw from their articles? Mostly habits. Which he would avoid. Like the plague. The viewpoint, for in-stance, that just as horse and carriage go together, in every situation there is most certainly a fitting expres-sion, in every concept an argument, in every ques-tion an answer, for every noun an adjective, for every verb an adverb. Therefore, the sense of relief not only would be palpable but also accompanied by a sigh as the ends are by purposes, the end ignominious, the analysis final, the heads that prevailed cool, the vic-tims - of their success, the optimistic cautiously, the point either tipping or that of inflection (unless it was of no return), the devil in details etc etc.
Avoiding contamination was, however, as humanly impossible as it is for the organic farmer to stop the propagation of pollutants through wind. The only re-maining concern of both anymore was to keep them below the minimum lawfully accepted threshold.
And what about the writers? Yes, but as a matter of priority and as long as it was humanly possible, he
You wish.
And what about logical errors, say, when people write βneedless to sayββ and then they say it, ββnot to nameββ and then name it, or βif you willβ but then say it anyway, even if I donβt.
Simos Panopoulos - Look at that
117
would read those who both did not shoot him down and, in their own way certainly, encouraged him. And those who, unlike others, nurtured him by not having the bad habit of brushing their mistakes under the rug. These writers ranged from those with a charisma of a damp rug to the below average. Even ex Nobelists. They had been granted their award close to their old age. By the time they received it, they had given all there was to give. Subsequently, purely out of mo-mentum, maybe out of pride as well, they continued, casually, in between the dessert and the cheese, ban-quets, interviews and ceremonies, to write. Inevitably, they gave themselves up to convenience, turning the auto-pilot on. Who would dare scold them? The pub-lisher? Donβt be silly.
Whichever ones, conversely, he didnβt demolish, he consumed in moderation. He would never be in the same league as them, he would realise in anger when-ever he read them, and consequently, for several days, would run out of inspiration.
Generally, he read (and listened to) whatever came his way: flyers, road maps, cookbooks, notices to mariners, storm notices, obituaries, comic books, the Prime ministerβs
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