The fault, good Christopher, lies not in our stars or Amazon that we are the underlings, but in our souls when we yearn for coin when a love of expression will suffice.

But all writers are made of such stuff as this, this expectation, in which lies the root of all disillusion.

Forsooth I too have trampled the ramparts and seen the ghosts of my books past.

And yet we are those that grasp a keyboard to our breast and hammer our sultry souls for want of a better love.

Great article, good luck and adieu.