A Technician Who Uses The Term “glitch”

For In Every Adult There Dwells The Child That Was, And In Every Child There Lies The Adult That Will Be.

Without A Human Voice To Read Them Aloud, Or A Pair Of Wide Eyes Following Them By Flashlight Beneath A Blanket, They Had No Real Existence In Our World. They Were Like Seeds In The Beak Of A Bird, Waiting To Fall To Earth, Or The Notes Of A Song Laid Out On A Sheet, Yearning For An Instrument To Bring Their Music Into Being.

“you Don't Have Much Faith In People, Do You?” Said David. “i Don't Have Much Faith In Anything,” Roland Replied. “not Even In Myself.”

What Is Good For You Creatively Is Usually Bad Commercially. You Thrive Financially By Sticking To A Series And Not Fiddling About Too Much. You Do Yourself Harm By Moving Away From The Series And The Genre. By Trying Things Not Based In That Particular Mode Of Writing, You Will Just Lose Readers.

I Dream Dark Dreams. I Dream Of A Figure Moving Through The Forest, Of Children Flying From His Path, Of Young Women Crying At His Coming. I Dream Of Snow And Ice, Of Bare Branches And Moon-cast Shadows. I Dream Of Dancers Floating In The Air, Stepping Lightly Even In Death, And My Own Pain Is But A Faint Echo Of Their Suffering As I Run. My Blood Is Black On The Snow, And The Edges Of The World Are Silvered With Moonlight. I Run Into The Darkness, And He Is Waiting. I Dream In Black And White, And I Dream Of Him. I Dream Of Caleb, Who Does Not Exist, And I Am Afraid.