When I was a young man, I used to think my problems were due to interesting and personalised character flaws, which other people would envy if they thought they could have them. Nowadays I realise that they are largely the result of conwardice and idleness. This ought to be an encouraging reflection, since these are in theory vices that I can do something to correct. Why is it then so hard?
I did publish a damn good book last year, in both England and America. The American edition is rather better published, and has pictures. Improve your new years, and mine: buy it.