“I have, actually. I'm under pressure, but I'm also observing myself under pressure from the standpoint of an onlooker.Once I create this other self within my mind I can proceed calmly, at my own pace.”

“Your job is obviously very pressured.""I thrive under pressure," I explain. Which is true. I've known that about myself ever since...Well. Ever since my mother told me when I was about 8.”

“And you’re okay with this?...” I studied his calm expression, my own features anything but calm.“Noooo…” Aeron drew the word out lazily with a slow, deliberate shake of his head. His face remained strangely composed.“Then can I please have some of whatever sedative you took…because this,” I waved my hand, motioning from his head to his feet, “is way too cool under pressure.”

“...[S]ometimes in writing of myself ... I have occasionally had the exquisite thrill of putting my finger on a little capsule of truth, and heard it give the faint squeak of mortality under my pressure, an antic sound.”

“By "guts" I mean, grace under pressure”

“I like to have a martini,Two at the very most.After three I'm under the table,after four I'm under my host.”