"It's like standing on the edge of a cliff. This is especially true of the first draft. Every day you're making up the earth you're going to stand on."

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Seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny week among its drowsy lanes - some half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world - some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century would sound far-off and faint.

— Jerome K. Jerome