Another great line that I could have sat for aeons pounding away at the keyboard and never come up with.

Honore De Balzac, please come on stage, and take a bow, for these are your fine words: " A great writer is just simply a martyr the stake cannot kill".

I'm neither, but to have thought this up is a prize in itself, and it does n't end there. Further on in Lost Illusions, which is where I was electrified by this line is another fragment of clear sighted genius "....the tremor of self-consciousness...".

I do n't think I've read such an apposite line that so succinctly sums up the utter gawkiness and stomach churning angst, the meek, the bashful, and the timid undergo in all manner of areas.