'This ain't no encampment like the
rich guy peddles - we have to wear
our suits of armor to bed. We have
to eat kneeling down. We're forced
to memorize the fourteen different
meanings of subservience. Now can
you understand me? For once?
Long ago I edited a travel book on
the inside hills of England. It sold
fairly well, and I garnered a living
from what I had done. One nice
contract however - I found -
does not guarantee a good life.
Like a guy I once knew - got 30
grand twice for ghost-writing some
sports-guy's book. No one ever saw
his name anywhere, but he said it
didn't matter. He got paid. Then,
one day, he blew his simple brains
out. Kind of made me wonder
what was really going on.'