I just watched the last episode of 'My Brilliant Career'. My instant conclusion:
Writers are selfish bastards.
Read Waverly by Sir Walter Scott. Its lesson:
A man can survive his foolish youth if he makes good connections and then inherits a large fortune.
Everyone was re-reading Ray Bradbury's "There will come soft rains" a few weeks ago in August. Couldn't resist tweeting about it:
Nice house, too bad about the war.
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